Close Encounters 23
by chezchuckles
Summary: Nobody Lives For Ever: Spy Castle works to get Beckett away from the ever-tightening net of the Collective - with the dubious help of his father.
1. Chapter 1

**Close Encounters 23: Nobody Lives For Ever**

* * *

><p><em>A man and a woman<em>  
><em>Are one.<em>  
><em>A man and a woman and a blackbird<em>  
><em>Are one.<em>

-'Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird,' Wallace Stevens

* * *

><p><em>Previously on <strong>Win, Lose or Die<strong>:_

_Castle didn't say anything; he couldn't compete with the raucous noise of the alarm blaring out in the hallway. He just pressed his fists into the thin mattress of the cot and slid his arms under her neck and thighs, lifted her easily up._

_She clutched the weapon with both hands, cradling it in the angle her body made. Her forehead pressed to his neck and she lifted her chin._

_"I got your back," she said. Quiet, but loud enough that he knew._

_Black reached out for the heart monitor on its little support stand, folded it up into its case, snapped it closed. He had all the bags now, and Castle had her. Not how he'd wanted this to go, not how he'd fought his father for it to go, but Black was going to do his own damn thing just to prove he could._

_Fine. They had to get out of here. No time to protest; just go._

* * *

><p>The fire alarms were screaming. It was so loud in the hallway, so piercing, that Kate felt it in her teeth, burrowing into her ears and clawing at her brain. She couldn't even lift her hands to press them over her ears because the gun was so heavy.<p>

Along with Black, Castle had dutifully joined the procession of apartment dwellers evacuating the building, going single file, no one panicking, though they were drawing attention, Kate being carried as if she were a victim of the alleged fire.

She could see Black behind them like a carrion bird, dark and dangerous, seeking his chance to scavenge her remains. His eyes were dark in the emergency lighting, but she kept catching flickers of grey, like the worst storms in October when the wind kicked up and the leaves gusted against the windows. She saw that whirlwind in him, the skitter of night animals, his hunched shoulders like heavy black wings.

Castle's arms flexed hard under her thighs and at her back, reminding her of his presence. She saw Black but she _felt_ Castle, how strong he was, super in a way he'd been avoiding for the last year or more. His arms were like cords, steel wire that held her to him despite every jolting step down the stairs; he wouldn't let her fall.

Kate couldn't hide her face in his neck; she couldn't. She had the gun and he was trusting her, and maybe she didn't have the strength to even raise the thing, but having it gave her a sense of security that she knew transmitted to him as well.

If they needed it, it was here.

But, shit, she felt bad. She felt so bad. The catheter itched; the closed IV port in her elbow was a permanent bruise that ached down to her joint. Her whole body felt bruised, run over, like she'd fallen off a cliff. She didn't want to even move her head to look, but she tried to at least keep aware.

Black followed behind them with the medical equipment. She kept catching glimpses of him, his eyes on her, studying, assessing, evaluating.

She couldn't bury her face in Castle's neck. They couldn't afford her weakness right now.

She was miserable; she felt miserable. She had the cold weapon so heavy in her lap, her fingers frozen solid to the flashy chrome. A drug dealer's gun, he'd said. She was having trouble swallowing, her throat was dry.

She was too much upright. Dizziness was tearing at the edges of her vision, threading her through with darkness. She tried to hang on, she was trying, but her cheek hit his shoulder and stayed, unable to be raised.

His head turned into her, a quick brush of his lips as if in forgiveness.

_I'm sorry_, she thought. So sorry.

They got to the third floor landing and the crowd of people thickened; someone jolted her foot and she gasped, feeling it up into her body, making her bones clatter together. Castle gripped her tighter, and that hurt too, his fingers digging into her neck and thigh where he carried her.

She sucked in a breath that felt too thin, closed her eyes for just a second. She didn't know how long that second lasted, but Castle clutched her harder.

"Coming through," he called urgently. "Coming through. She needs medical attention. Please, let us through."

She let her eyes stay closed, figuring he could use her wretchedness to his advantage, but the fire alarm was piercing, her heart was thudding out of control - she really couldn't open her eyes if she had to. She was gasping, she realized, her heart rate making her hyperventilate, and Castle wasn't lying.

"Move aside," he yelled. "Let us through. Let us get down-"

People were moving, she saw, people were actually pressing against the walls of the stairwell, and even calling ahead in French and German, gripping shoulders and elbows and pulling family members aside. Kate gasped when Castle jolted down a step, her movement turning her head so that she saw a boy holding his mother's hand, his gaze solemn and scared. She felt like shit, felt worse for seeing the kid still on the stairs as Castle pushed past them.

She was _not_ going to cry. She was going to grit her teeth and suck in air and she wasn't going to lose it, not just going down the damn stairs.

There wasn't really a fire. There was no fire. These people were going to be fine.

Castle was saying something now, right against her temple so that she could feel the vibration of his voice, but the fire alarm was so loud, so strident, she could hear nothing but its clawing sound.

She was afraid she was going to drop the gun.

* * *

><p>Outside the apartment building was an inferno of emergency lights, first responders, milling occupants, and confused voices. It was easy to push through the crowd and out past the cadre of vehicles, but once they got to the perimeter, Castle had to take pains to <em>avoid<em> the emergency personnel who might want to take Kate off his hands, thinking she was a victim of the 'fire.'

His father kept glancing at his phone and leading them resolutely towards some unknown point. His contact must be giving him directions, or there was a GPS map available, but Castle was growing less and less certain that any resource of Black's was something they should be using.

At least Beckett had their weapon in her lap, available, ready, even if she couldn't exactly keep it steady. Better than nothing, better than defenseless when they met up with this other individual.

The night strobed with red light, catching her face at odd angles so that he had to stop looking down at her. Just keep his eyes on the street ahead of them, push out of the crowd.

In the general din, Castle saw the cluttered jumble of cars and fire engines, ambulances and wandering people. Red Cross volunteers were trying to get things organized, or maybe that was some kind of city response team, but it forced Castle and Black to wind their way through the mess so they wouldn't be snagged by a well-meaning official.

Behind them, the sirens still whined, the fire alarm blared, police on bullhorns called out in French and German to evacuate the building, to stay behind the cordoned area, to please contact personnel for organization. But out of the haze of smoke ahead of them, suddenly a man appeared, coming down the street.

He was familiar.

"That's him," Black said, his voice a husk in the thick air. "Hunt."

"Hunt?" Castle hissed. He had just recognized the man, the lean, broad-shouldered figure, the air of condescension even in the uniform of a paramedic's heavy jacket. Hunt came on them in moments but he stumbled at the sight of the woman in Castle's arms.

"_Beckett_," he gaped. "Is she shot? I don't have equipment for-"

"Not shot," Castle growled. "Move. Move. We don't have time for you to gawk."

"She looks like _hell_." Hunt couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her.

"I don't need any comments from you," Castle snapped. "Go."

"Do as he says," Black added, as if _he_ were in charge.

But he was, wasn't he? Castle didn't have much of a choice.

Hunt flashed Castle a nasty look, like two opposing fans at a football match in London, but Hunt turned first and jogged back into the relative darkness beyond. Black went after him and Castle followed, viciously pleased that he could move so quickly, that her weight was nothing at all to his augmented self. He had this. He could do whatever was necessary.

There was a damn good reason to be on the regimen; hell _yes_ there was. He wasn't ever going to quit it, not when it could do this, when it could _save her life_. He'd learned his lesson; he had her - no one else - he would always come through for her.

Hunt led the way to an ambulance parked on the next block over, engine running. People still moved around them, heading toward the smoking building, but no one gave them another look. Hunt opened the back doors wide and made a move to grab the gurney. But Castle got a foot on the bumper and hauled both himself and Kate into the back, ignoring Hunt entirely.

"Fucking show off," Hunt muttered.

"You have shotgun, Black," Castle called. He turned a baleful look on Hunt. "Get in the front and drive."

Hunt saluted, smart-aleck, and moved around to the driver's door. Castle laid Beckett onto the gurney, checked her heart rate with his fingers just to be sure. She had passed out sometime before they hit the ground floor, and she hadn't regained consciousness yet. But her pulse was steady.

He took the gun from the cradle of her thighs and gripped it carefully, checked the safety before he went back to Kate. He arranged her arms against the stretcher, made sure the IV port was clear, and then he locked the wheels into place in the divots on the floor, just in case.

When he had her strapped in, and he heard the engine shift into gear, Castle glanced in bewilderment to the back doors and saw his father still struggling with the medical equipment. Black lifted his head, breathing heavily as he shoved the last bag into place, and Castle let the moment go on without offering help. Too long, maybe, long enough that Black knew - could make no mistake - who held the power here.

And then Castle leaned forward and wrapped his hand around his father's arm, hauled him up into the back of the ambulance with them. The vehicle began to move, things slid, but Castle calmly tugged the doors shut with a resounding bang.

When he turned back around, Black was in the corner, carefully avoiding even touching the gurney, his hands clutching the metal seat in a white-knuckled grip.

"You can go that way." Castle nodded to the division between the front seat and the back bay of the ambulance. "Get up front with him. There's no room back here."

His father gave the divider a despairing look, but Castle offered no mercy.

Black turned to the front and worked on getting his wrecked body over the divider and into the passenger seat.

Castle was satisfied.

For now. Best he could do.

Plus, he had the feeling that Black was physically capable of a lot more than he liked to pretend.

* * *

><p>Kate woke, shoved by pain into awareness. Light was harsh, pushing out a black that pressed against the windows. Two windows. Small and high, and then her eyes dipped and followed the lines of metal and chrome to a wall of compartments labeled in German.<p>

A rattle jolted her hard, and she realized she was in the back of an ambulance. They'd made it then, or at least things were going according to plan. Black's plan, but better that than the Collective getting their hands on Castle all because she couldn't even stand up on her own.

She felt better? She wasn't sure. She ached, but she felt more with it than she had in days - since that day on the park bench. With the light overhead, the back of the bus seemed empty and spacious compared to where she'd been before. She titled her head to one side and caught sight of Castle's knee.

She had the energy to lift her arm, drop her hand to the rough material of his jeans, tug.

Castle was immediately turning to her, bracing a fist beside her head on the gurney, hovering there as he studied her. "Hey there," he said, tension beginning to slide off of him as their eyes met. "You're looking better, Kate."

"Feel better," she answered. Her fingers crawled up the side of his leg and rested on his knee. He caught her hand, squeezed before putting her fingers to his lips and kissing them. She closed her eyes to gather herself, opened them again. "Where're we?"

"In an ambulance, mostly driving south. Our contact is someone you know."

"Oh?" The ride was startlingly smooth, but she figured they were traveling on the interstate now. She felt dizzy lying down like this, backwards. "I need to sit up."

His face twisted; he darted his eyes towards the front where presumably their contact and Black were, but she closed her hand tighter around his, trying to prove herself, prove she could do it.

Finally, Castle gave a brisk nod and leaned in, caught the back of the gurney as he manipulated the metal workings somewhere below. She felt it crank and then the whooshing slide of sensation in her guts as her body was levered upright.

She closed her eyes to block it out, settle her stomach, and then slowly peeled her eyelids apart, bracing herself.

But it was okay. It wasn't... wasn't good, but she could survive.

"How's that?" Castle said. He was perched on the edge of a metal bench seat, fiddling with the loose grey strap that held her to the gurney. His body didn't even move an inch as the ambulance swayed with speed. "Port and cath - they feel okay?"

"Everything's - normal, for now," she said. She had to be honest, clear with him, if she wanted him to make rational decisions about her. It was all compromise - she admitted when she felt bad, and he gave in and let her push what she could.

"Good," he breathed.

"You said I knew our contact," she prompted.

"It's Colin Hunt," he sighed.

"Damn," she muttered, leaning her head back against the raised gurney. "Are you serious? So he had to have been in the area, and Black called him - relied on _him_."

"He was there at the embassy when we went in after Threkeld," Castle reminded her. "So Black has been calling on him. And I wouldn't doubt that our first meeting with him in London was set up."

"Black giving him a chance to get close to us?" Kate said, idle question, really. But then something a little more insidious came to mind.

Hunt had been quite... persuasively aggressive with her. She hadn't - of course she hadn't - given him any indication that she was willing to take him up on it, and Castle had most assuredly proved she wasn't available, but that hadn't stopped Hunt. Hands on her during that dance, pushing her professionally to do something that had turned out to be questionable at best.

Probably, she thought now, he'd been on orders from Black. See if she could have been compromised. See if she could've been persuaded to release her claws.

It had been a test.

But she didn't tell Castle that. There was attraction, of course, the kind from like-minded people, but on her part it was such a dim flicker on her radar that she hadn't realized quite how aggressive Hunt had been. Not until the night they'd freed Threkeld, the night of the embassy with those strange touches, inappropriate, confusing, nearly humiliating. She'd been _pregnant_. If anything should say hands off...

Still trying to compromise her on orders from Black?

Or something else.

"We're headed for the border," Castle told her quietly. It brought her straight back to here and now, to an ambulance rushing through the late evening darkness. "We can't cross in an ambulance, even with the borders so open in the EU; there'd have to be papers for patient transfer. So that's out."

"Yeah," she agreed. "And damn conspicuous. If the Collective really is out there, closing in on us - won't take them too long to figure out we've slipped the net."

"But we do have a head start," he asserted. "We just have to find a way to keep it."

"You said it before," she told him. Her head was starting to swim, dizziness wanting to claim her even as she sat up. She didn't want to lie back down; she hated being flat out and defenseless. "We don't want to give them a clear trail. They can't find the ambulance, can't know where we cross the border either."

"We'll stop before then," he promised. "But how do we cross?"

"Give me a couple days," she insisted. "Let's hole up in some border town, Rick, and let me just - sleep it off - and then I can sit up in a car to cross and they won't look at us twice."

He frowned. "Sleep it off. This is a little more serious than a hangover, Beckett. I want you in a hospital - at home - soon as possible. Not holed up in a border town."

She studied the tangle of their fingers together, worked to adjust her mindset. He was right; she couldn't pretend otherwise. She had to _help_ him, not hinder him. They worked best together and if he thought she was being reckless with her health, he was going to stop listening to her altogether.

"You're right about that," she said quietly. "This is serious. For all of us, not just me. We're going to have to weigh the risks on either side."

"There's only you," he rasped, bringing her hand up with his as he pressed his fingers to his eyes. He looked ready to fall apart, and she'd done that, pushed him there.

Kate curled her hand at his nose where her fingers were tangled with his, tried to do what she could. "There's all of us," she insisted softly. "You, me, our son. My father. The boys and Lanie and Jenny and that little girl-"

"Stop," he husked.

"Babe, I know, I'm sorry. But this is where we are. We - we need help, Castle, and this is what we've got. We're not all alone out here - not in the danger and the risks, but that also means we're not far from _help._ Even Hunt is - an asset."

"He's a fucking ass_hole_ is what he is."

She tugged on his fingers and he dropped his hand, still holding on to hers. She gave him a stern face. "Don't estrange Hunt by being possessive and belligerent; we need someone on our side. Because God knows Black isn't."

Castle rocked back, face blank for a moment before he slowly nodded, like he was gathering himself together, iron strand by iron strand, composing himself. "Okay. Point taken."

She let out a breath and studied his face to be sure. He might be a man on the edge, but he wasn't going to break apart. She could trust that. "We have resources," she insisted. "We have _people_. People we can trust, people who aren't your father."

"You think we can trust Hunt?"

"Not as far as I can throw him," she muttered. "Which is nowhere at all, considering I'm strapped into the back of an ambulance."

Castle gave a hollow laugh, catching her eyes as he shook his head at her. "Babe."

"True," she shrugged. "But we work for the CIA, Castle. Let's think of options. Come up with a plan. We can't keep making defensive moves - that's what Black is relying on."

"Proactive," he said, nodding. "You're right. That was my thought earlier too, but then he just sprang this shit on us, the fire alarm going off, rushing out. That's what he intended, and I know that, but it didn't give us any choice in it."

"But now we do," she insisted, fighting back another wave of breath-stealing dizziness. She stopped to concentrate, focus on the next breath, and she had to squeeze his hand. "Castle, I'm - sorry - sorry, but I think I'm gonna pass out."

He cursed and she felt him jerking into action, felt the thump of the bed lowering and her body going flat, but the sensation of swimming didn't leave her, sucked down by a current. She squeezed Castle's fingers, fought it off, fought to stay with him.

A plan. They needed a plan; he needed _her_. He looked sick with fear over her and that couldn't be their default right now. Fuck, she wasn't going to be able to stay.

"Call someone," she said, her mouth like rubber around the words. "Call for help."

"You need help? God-"

"No," she groaned, tried to clutch his hand. "No, no. The plan, the plan, Castle."

"The plan."

"Call Mitch," she breathed out. "Mitch can meet us. Mitch can - can get it all set up."

"Mitchell is head of security on our _son_."

"Mitch," she repeated, but she was afraid she was losing it, losing the threads of everything. Why Mitch? Why had she thought...

"Kate?"

Oh, it was no good. She was falling.

* * *

><p>Don't alienate Hunt. Don't be belligerent.<p>

Right.

Beckett couldn't possibly think Castle could do that. Last time they'd met, the man had _felt up_ his pregnant wife. Belligerence was pretty much the only thing Castle was capable of, since outright strangling the asshole wouldn't be a good idea.

Kate was unconscious, but now that her head was down and she was lying flat, he could see her lashes fluttering as she came around again. Only five minutes that time, which meant she _was_ actually better, recovering, or at least that she was holding her own, not giving ground.

He had connected the heart monitor again, and the little green numbers were reassuring.

Make a plan. Call someone. She'd said Mitch, but Mitch had a team on their son in New York and he couldn't pull him off of that. He wanted to say Mason was a better option. Mason had called them with the fake emergency that had gotten them out of the office last Thursday; Mason could be relied on in an operation like this.

But Mason didn't have full knowledge here, and Mason had a wife. Castle had been forced to let him in on a few things, but it wasn't fair of them to put the burden of Black on anyone else. There was a Catch/Kill order out on John Black and keeping back location information was _treasonous_.

Mitchell wasn't CIA any longer. Mitchell could get here without having to ask permission, without needing a made-up reason or presidential approval. Mitchell wasn't married.

Damn, Kate was right. Mitchell was pretty much the only one they could rope into this and _not_ burn bridges, not ruin careers. Reynolds - no, they couldn't. Too much had been taken from Reynolds, and he was their man in the Office right now. Her boys? They had changed careers for Beckett, followed her to the CIA, and he wouldn't ruin that by dragging them overseas.

Esposito was going to absolutely murder him, though. He could hear it now.

But Beckett would murder him worse if he called Espo to be their back-up. Shit. She would not be happy with that, and his life was fucking forfeit if he did that.

Mitchell had his own security company, Mitchell had the field training and tactical skills to pull this off, Mitchell knew what he'd be walking into with Castle's father, and it could be argued that Mitchell was already culpable where Black was concerned. Damn.

Mitchell.

Damn it.

Mitchell had good people working the security detail on their son. Mitchell had even gotten Walker to work the alarm systems and outfit them with the latest shit, top of the line, cutting edge stuff. Jim Beckett had to have a thumbprint and voice passcode just to get in the damn _front gate_ of his own cabin upstate.

Castle slid his phone out of his pocket and hovered his thumb over the message app. He wasn't even touching it, but the screen sensed his body heat and opened it without his say, waiting.

Fuck, she was _right_. They needed help, they had to make a plan, and relying on Black's operatives and contacts was _not_ a good idea.

Castle touched the text field and the keyboard slid onscreen.

_Mitch, need your help to border-cross. Can you get here?_

He hit send, watched it go, the little vibration in his hand when it was delivered. He lifted his head and stared forward, saw his father and Hunt talking softly in the front seat.

Yeah, Kate was right. Black had just made it two against two, and that wasn't good. Castle needed to bring their own resources to bear on this. They might be reliant on Black's medical knowledge of the regimen and the advanced chelation, but they weren't reliant on his methods.

Castle had to get out in front of this thing, make it his own again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Close Encounters 23**

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><p>Kate Beckett was in the back of an ambulance, on the run from the Collective, from the world it seemed, but she was proud of herself. She was proud because she could stay mostly conscious; she was able to stay with him. Castle looked better because of her continued presence, which made her feel better too, and they'd managed a few conversations about Mitch and logistics: what town had the most permeable border, where they could get supplied, how Mitch could come in.<p>

Four days of chelation/dialysis and she could feel the difference. Her body was still heavy with exhaustion, with the wreckage of toxicity, but she could string together her thoughts, she could follow his conversation, she didn't feel like crying for once.

Helped that Black was out of sight in the front seat.

But she was getting better. The chelation itself might make her sick, like she'd been ground down to nothing, but on the whole, her good times were longer, stronger in between. There'd be setbacks, of course, because the program wasn't half-figured out, because Black was going to resist where he could, because stabilizing her electrolytes and blood count and everything was going to take a balancing act, but she was on her way.

_Living_ felt possible again.

Sitting up wasn't smart. She was learning that too. She stayed down this time, the sounds of ambulance tires against the wet pavement filling up the small space. Castle had his elbows on the gurney and he talked to her like a partner, like he relied on her.

She really loved this man. If she felt anywhere close to capable, she'd make him go home to their son. But she wasn't. And she couldn't. Absolutely couldn't. Just the thought of him shifting away from her on the gurney set her heart to pounding and made her palms sweat. She recognized the triggers for a panic attack, and exhaustion was high up the list, but she couldn't do much about it.

It was raining past the two little windows of their world, and they'd dimmed the lights in the back so no one could see inside. One small glow up near her head bathed the side of his face in yellow light. The shush of rain and the strokes of his fingers up and down her arm had her drowsy, though she was trying to keep up with his conversation.

After a little while, they both fell silent, Castle answering texts from Mitchell about the plan and where to meet, details, and Kate watching his face as he worked. He had deep lines around his mouth, more than before, frown lines, worry lines, while the smiling crinkles at his eyes were smoother, unused for too long.

But still there. She had put those lines there, all of them, happy and sad, and she knew it. It was the cost of a fulfilling life, and she didn't regret them. She just wished the smile would come a little more frequently.

She would make him smile. She was determined. A deep smile, with relief in it, with joy. Amusement even, or hell, surprise would work. Jolt it out of him. She was going to do it; she needed him smiling as much as he needed to smile. They fed into each other, their own parasitical relationship, and if she showed a little backbone and strength, he'd be able to do the same.

Castle finished his text and dropped the phone beside her hip again, steepled his fingers under his chin, watching her. He was silent, maybe not even consciously aware of how he studied her, and she only lifted her hand and wound her arm through his.

He did smile briefly at that. He tilted his cheek to knock into her hand, and then righted his head again, thinking hard about something. Mitch and mission parameters, she had no doubt, but she also felt a curious disregard for whatever those details might be.

Obviously she wasn't totally up to par. Normally she'd be all over that.

Castle had narrowed his eyes while he thought, mouth pressed in a line, and she straightened her fingers under his chin, brushed at the growth of scruff along his jaw. Rough, and abrasive on the sensitive pads of her fingers. Made her shiver hard, sensation like slices along her nerves, surprised by how visceral her reaction was.

But it wasn't arousal. It was pain. Stole her breath, how that stimulus flayed her nerve endings. A kind of deferred pain, borrowing from what she was consciously shutting down and giving it to her where she wanted only to feel good.

He had noticed too, and his hand released from its perch and wrapped around hers, a kiss pressed to her wrist that made his cheeks scratch her skin. She sucked in a breath.

"Kate?"

"Just - sensory overload," she got out. Like she'd been in a damn deprivation tank or something. In training, they'd done that to the CIA recruits, had them undergo sensory dep in a tank. So dizzying at first, so confusingly bewildering, and then it had bloomed hard and fast into a natural panic and thrashing if you couldn't get it under control. She hadn't had any trouble _then_ but now it might be crashing down hard on her.

Castle reached out and with a click he turned off the last of the light. She let out a heavy breath, surprised again, but already the pain was fading. Less. Less of all of it. She couldn't take too much, clearly, or it would overwhelm her system. She was a shaky construct right now; one stiff wind would knock her down.

His fingers stroked her hair off her forehead. "Better?"

"Better," she whispered. Her hand was still against his cheek; she could feel individual bristles, feel the abrasion to her skin. Transmitting all that information up her body, awareness turned on like electricity making contact. Painful.

Maybe necessary.

"What do you need?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Feel sick?"

"No, no."

"IV line okay? Catheter-"

"Fine, it's good. It's not that. Think my body is just - catching up. I don't know. A rush."

"A rush?" His lips were chapped; she felt them, felt the catch of skin on skin. Her stomach shivered in place, caught between churning and butterflies. Strange. So strange.

"I don't know," she murmured. "I don't know. It's - sensation. Stimulation. I don't feel quite so damn heavy now, but it's - things hurt."

"Am I hurting you?"

Maybe she took too long to frame an answer because his hands were gone immediately, he was lifting off the side of the gurney, sitting up straight, away from her.

"No," she called to him. "Not hurting me. Don't."

He came back, but hesitantly, and she fought the sensation of ants crawling under her skin as his hand found hers again.

It was - strange. From everything dull and leadened and heavy to this. Her body maybe was bouncing between extremes. She'd felt like this to some degree when she'd been pregnant, the heightened sensation, the prickling at her scalp and the sensitive-

"Castle," she said, blinking through the muted darkness. He was already right there, waiting on her. "Remember how it was, right before we found out, even right after. Those first few weeks."

"I - yeah? When you were pregnant?"

"Feels like that," she said, a little quick breath to get herself together. Her fingers were tingling, a little hot, sweat touching her forehead.

"You're - _aroused_?"

She snorted, breath caught at the end of it. "No. Not - no. God, I'm exhausted. No, it's - that heightened-"

"The response, the increased blood flow. Boyd said that, remember? The blood carrying more oxygen, more nutrient-rich."

He stopped, and she realized she was hot, the sweatshirt and pants too much, her breath fast, extremely uncomfortable, like the stuff inside her was burning inside out.

"Kate."

"Yeah, yeah, that," she muttered, licking her lips. "I'm - burning up."

Castle yanked the zipper down on the hoodie, already maneuvering her arms through the sleeves and off. She let out a breath and closed her eyes, sweat breaking out.

"Increased blood flow," he said, struggling for calm, she could tell. "That's all it is. Like a panic attack, remember? That's what Boyd said, back then. Course, back then, we just fucked it out, didn't we? Used that burst of energy in some really creative ways, sweetheart."

"Yeah," she laughed, but this wasn't funny. God, she felt bad now. Really bad. She was prickly-scalped hot, and dizzy again, and her skin felt tight; the extremes were going to break her apart.

"I got you. You're okay. I got you, Kate." He was skimming the pants off her legs now, throwing back the thin blanket, giving her some room, some air. "Can you drink water? Or do I need to put in the IV?"

"Water," she agreed. She could. She thought she could.

"It comes in waves, remember?" He was busy at her side and she heard him unzipping a bag, but she closed her eyes, riding that wave.

Waves of awareness. She'd laughingly called it a hot-for-him flash, but this wasn't arousal. Maybe if she were feeling a hundred percent, less like she'd been run over by a truck, maybe it would be, but this was that saliva-in-the-back-of-the-throat feeling, that almost-going-to-throw-up feeling, too much blood rushing too many places, surface and away from organs, gearing up as if to run. Fight or flight but she was entirely too sick for either.

Had to calm down.

"Here, Kate. Water." He had his fingers under her neck, tilting her head. She touched her lips to the bottle and sipped and she felt better for that cool relief. Better. "Little more, hon. Your heart is racing."

She took a longer swallow, lifted her chin to make him let her go. He was still hovering but already the wave had broken, already she could breathe without having to think about it. He was blowing softly over her forehead, her cheeks, and goose bumps shimmied across her arms.

"Hey, you're okay, you're okay. More water, Kate."

She let him push it, drank what she could before she had to turn her head to the away. "Thanks. This was a lot more fun when I was pregnant." She opened her eyes, resigned to facing his concern, but he wasn't half as bad off as she'd expected.

And he was smiling at her. "Next time, we'll see if we can't ride it out. You know, _ride_ it out." His eyebrow raise was dramatic as hell, just for her, and she laughed just to see it.

"I got it. I'm in toxic shock, Castle, not stupid." But she knew she was grinning like an idiot at him, knew it was all over her face.

Relief.

They really could get through this. Both of them.

* * *

><p>He tried not to touch her, because he remembered from her pregnancy how that affected her. How it flared everything to life. If she was feeling it now like <em>pain <em>rather than pleasure, then he wasn't going to add to those sensations.

Her heart really couldn't take it. Literally.

She did curl her fingers in the cup of his, just that touch, and he could tell she wasn't sleeping, just trying to keep still, not set things off. Back when she'd been four months, five months pregnant, holy shit, they'd been sneaking off on their lunch breaks, they'd invented fun new positions, they'd experimented with the limits of her response.

Damn, that thought scared him. Scared him to think maybe that was the beginning of this. Scared him to think of how perilous her body's systems might have always been, one step away from crashing, one imbalance away from failure. If it was the same feeling now, though without the arousal, then really, it wasn't any different.

But Kate was still here. He had to keep reminding himself of that. Kate was here, alive, she was hanging in there. She wouldn't stop - he loved that about her - she just wouldn't let go.

Their fingertips alone would touch. Her palms were damp, but she was breathing easier now. Her eyes were closed. She was awake, her fingers moving against his from time to time. She didn't ask for the blanket, didn't ask for clothes to come back on, so he didn't bother with that right now. T-shirt and panties, but it was dark enough that no one would see much.

He was texting Mitchell, and he read the last message and shifted forward. "I'm going to tell Hunt where to go," he said softly. "Stay right here."

She made a noise, amusement maybe, and he found he could smile. He let go of her hand and moved forward, sitting on the metal bench at the divider. There was no screen, just a kind of narrow doorway at hip height that would allow someone to go between. It took effort though, and guaranteed that a patient couldn't manage it, but the paramedic in back could if necessary.

He cleared his throat, got his father's attention. "Drive to Lontzen, in the province of Liege."

Hunt snarled something nasty. "That's the _opposite_ direction. Black said Italy."

"Not going to Italy," Castle said. "Lontzen is a Belgian border town, it's German-speaking. We'll rent a place there and wait for back-up."

"Back-up," Black said quickly. He was playing the meek foot soldier, but Castle didn't believe it for a moment.

"My back-up. You have contacts, well, so do I."

Castle started to sit back but Hunt spoke up. "Your back-up, fine. What's the _plan_?"

"I told you the plan," Castle gave back. "Drive to Lontzen. Rent a place. Wait for back-up."

"Remarkably simple," Hunt muttered. His sarcasm was thick.

Castle couldn't care less, but Hunt _was_ driving, and he was reckless enough to do something stupid. So Castle sketched out the plan: "There are about five thousand in town; a local chateau is just outside, nearly across the German border. It rents rooms, so that's a good place for us. Beckett and I will be in one room, you and Black in an attached."

And he'd have all the keys, that was for damn sure, but he wouldn't tell them that. Not yet. Mtichell had suggested the place because they could control the exits easily, because they'd be able to see people coming from a mile away, and because the place was known as a 'respite' - the kind of cure that the invalid took when they needed milder air and fresh produce and an easier time of it.

Genteel, that had been the word Mitchell had used. Whatever. It would work. It was slightly out of the trajectory Castle had been intending - south had been the idea (planted by his father, now that he thought about it) - but Mitchell had contacts in Cologne, and they could go there, ditch his father after Beckett was stable.

The other good thing about this place - Mitch said the doors locked from the _outside_ with a maid's master key. Which Mitchell had told him how to get, of course, because master keys were how Mitch operated. That man could open any door he pleased. Mitchell had promised his old CIA cover ID would hold up, though it would take at least 48 hours for Mitch to gather up all his pieces and come to them. Meanwhile, Castle could lock Black into that room and set Hunt as guard on the connecting door.

He was moderately sure that Hunt had protective feelings towards Kate. Moderately sure. Enough to allow Hunt to keep his gun and trust him to do errands. Colin 'Ethan' Hunt, whatever else had gone on, had made passes at his wife that Castle could trust would serve them now. He didn't _like_ it, but it wasn't like Kate was ever in question. He could almost pity the man for the kind of attraction that drove him to work even against himself; Castle completely understood what it was like to be struck silly by Kate Beckett.

His sympathy stopped there. No one was going to touch his wife.

"Lontzen," Hunt echoed. "All right. I gotta backtrack a little ways."

"Not on the E," Black said. "Use alternates."

Hunt slid a look over to Black. "I have done this before, you know."

Castle suppressed a smile, glanced away from the two of them to study Kate. She looked to be sleeping, but it might just be the way she was riding it out.

The ambulance slowed and Castle took a quick look out the front windshield. They were exiting the highway, heading for the back roads, and Castle watched long enough to ascertain their new direction. East now, heading for the German border.

He shifted back to his seat beside Beckett, and she lifted her hand, fingers wriggling.

He took it, a brisk squeeze in case she needed pressure and not sensitivity, and her eyes opened to look at him.

She had a smile, and he smiled back, and at least there was a plan in place. They weren't on a flight back to New York, but they were making progress.

"How's it?" she murmured. "Everything ok?"

Castle leaned in and gave her forehead a smacking kiss. "We're good. Keep doing what you're doing."

* * *

><p>When the overheated awareness receded, she slept.<p>

Hard.

She woke for a moment when she heard the storm shake the roof of the ambulance, roaring overhead like a train bearing down on them. She must have startled, because Castle leaned in and said something to her, but she didn't hear it; she was already unable to concentrate, falling back asleep.

She woke again to an argument between them, Hunt's voice particularly discernible over the thunderstorm, and she turned her head to realize that it was because he was beside her. It wasn't Castle; it was Hunt right here.

Shocked, she missed a breath and it caused her heart rate to fumble, and then Castle was barking an order and she saw he was driving and now Hunt was reaching over her for something and she could hear the whine of the heart monitor as it read her unstable.

"I'm okay," she tried to croak, tried. _Just surprised_. It was raining still and it was dark; she could trace the path of the water as streamed down those two little back windows. Her heart was missing beats, her body was heavy. She was going to sleep. It was so dark.

Hunt did something and she grunted, turned her head to see her arm was velcroed to the gurney, the IV port was open, fluids going in.

She didn't know when that had happened. Maybe she'd been more unconscious than asleep.

"I'm okay," she tried to get out, but her tongue was thick and her mouth wouldn't move. Something drained in her head, like sinus pressure, or blood, and she coughed.

She heard his voice then, Castle, but she wanted him to just drive, drive them safely - to safe_ty_ - drive, drive, drive.

The whine of the heart monitor dragged her along the rough edge of consciousness. Hunt was leaning in, so close she could smell him, the thick aftershave that clung to his shirt, the deodorant, the material of his t-shirt brushing against her exposed stomach.

Oh, God.

She couldn't breathe.

Her heart faltered. The machine screamed. Her heart wasn't beating; she could feel the dead weight of her body all over, dead weight, heart like a wet fish in her chest. Castle. Castle was yelling, Castle was-

A searing pain jolted through her body and she arched, crashing _up_ - into Hunt, but he caught her. Castle was barking orders, Hunt was wild-eyed and hanging on to her, easing her down, a syringe rolling across her stomach.

_Are you okay, are you okay, just breathe, Beckett_.

Atropine?

Her nerves were shot, scattered across her body, scrambling to pick up, shaky and adrenaline-soaked. She gasped breath after breath, Castle was calling out from the front, her hands were in tight gripping fists around Hunt's arms. He was trying get her to let go, she thought, she thought, she couldn't make her hands work right.

Her heart pounded.

The machine was blipping with her arrhythmia, her eyes scrambled to find purchase, and then Hunt was gone and the ambulance had slowed down and stopped and then it was Castle.

"I'm okay," she finally rasped. She didn't sound okay, not even to her ears, but Castle was here. Castle was here.

Her heart had stopped beating but he was here.

* * *

><p>They'd made it to Lontzen.<p>

Fucking hell, almost not. But they were here.

Beckett had thrown PACs in the ambulance, which had sent her into atrial fib, and thank God that Castle, beforehand, had thought she felt too cold, thought _maybe she ought to be on saline right now_, because they'd had the port open and the IV already set up when Hunt had been back there with her. A push of atropine and she'd jolted right back to a normal sinus rhythm.

But God. Seeing that look on her face as the atropine had hit - that had been gut-wrenching. He never wanted to do that ambulance ride again.

Black had said _electrolyte imbalance_ and Logan, via text, had confirmed something like that, more specifically, something off with her potassium. _You're lucky you were giving her saline, that probably kept her heart from stopping_.

Heart failure was a common symptom of an overworked heart. She had been headed that way, just the extreme changes in electrolytes and blood count and minerals. The chelation/dialysis therapy wasn't easy on her body, and Black hadn't looked surprised, but had his father ever _told_ him that, Castle wouldn't have moved her. Castle wouldn't have risked it.

If Black had said, _hey, this might make her heart stop_, Castle was pretty sure he wouldn't have budged from that damn apartment - fire alarm or no.

Lontzen was charming. Kate would love it, if she were awake to see it - it had the German gusto for life, the kind of steady, plodding, red-cheeked determination to survive. He hoped it infected her; he hoped it infected _him._

There were at least five breweries, and Castle wanted a beer. She probably did too.

Not happening this trip.

The chateau was a three-story house, basically, with a wide, double-door front entry and narrow, lead-glass windows, rather Gothic. It would be Black's job to get rid of the ambulance, which Castle trusted him to do because the man didn't want Collective following them here. Hunt would stay with them as they checked into the suite of rooms and settled Beckett in.

Castle had to go in and collect the keys by himself. He didn't like leaving Kate to Hunt and Black, but no one else could do it - not if Castle's plan was to work. He jogged through the rain, moderately assured that Hunt in the back with Kate at least knew what not to do, if Black tried to convince him of something. Still, Castle took the wide front steps at a run, splashing through puddles.

Snagging the door handle, he wrestled it open, heavy and ornate as it was, and came into the broad marble foyer. A staircase came straight down to meet him, and a front desk was set up below it, two men manning a computer. Castle rubbed water out of his hair, his five-days' beard, shook it out of his hoodie, and he made his approach only slightly soaking wet.

His German was natural; he used the accent more local to the Swiss border, indicating some travel. He explained that his wife was bedridden, sick, that traveling was hard for them even with the male nurse, that they needed to stop here for a few days before they went home so she could get her strength back.

The man was quite accommodating, listened to his needs, found them the adjoining suites without a problem. He turned over the keys before Castle had even given him the credit card, and Rick smiled and thanked him, and knew that the tension on his face was being attributed to the sick woman waiting, as was actually the case.

Third floor, it was, and the credit card went through without a problem - one of Castle's new IDs. _Not_ their family emergency ID, but also not an official CIA legend; he'd at least had the forethought to gather unused IDs before they had left. He pocketed the keys and took a map of the chateau and grounds, nodded as the man pointed out their rooms.

Perfect.

Castle allowed the bellman to go upstairs ahead of them and open the doors, turn down the beds, saying he'd take with him a big pile of towels since the rain was such an inconvenience. Still in the lobby, Castle thanked him for the consideration, nodding as the bellman went up, and then he turned back to the wide doors and the night beyond.

He jogged back out into the darkness and the rain, and already Hunt was jumping out of the back of the bus.

They couldn't take her in by stretcher; the ambulance couldn't be seen. The IV would perhaps be too much, but there was little he could do about it. Hunt traveled forward to the doors, carrying all the equipment without a word; the man had been subdued ever since Beckett's heart had stopped on their drive.

Castle jumped up onto the ambulance's rear bumper, crawled inside the back. He had re-dressed her in those sweats just an hour ago, right before they'd pulled off the main road. She was unconscious, but looked to be stable; the heart monitor had already been disconnected and Hunt had it with the rest of their bags.

Castle wrapped the thin blanket around her, then draped another over her torso, cowling her head, and he slid her from the gurney to his arms.

Her cheek hit his wet shirt and she gasped, came awake, rigid for a moment. "Castle," she whispered.

"Sorry, we're going inside, but it's raining. My shirt's wet."

"Okay," she mumbled, and her eyes closed. Her body eased, no longer stiff.

He adjusted the blanket and then got his feet under him, started to move. He went fast, because he could, but the rain was steady and it sluiced down his chest no matter how quickly he moved, and she was dappled with drops by the time he got through the chateau's main doors.

There was nothing he could have done differently.

* * *

><p>Oh, the rain had been invigorating.<p>

Kate grinned against his shirt, shedding drops as they mounted the stairs. They followed a trail up into the respite home that Castle seemed to know without directions. Hunt was behind them, but not Black, and the lights in this old chateau were cheerful against the darkness outside.

"What are you smiling about?" Castle mumbled. She hummed and closed her eyes, his wet shirt under her cheek, the rain in her hair and the tips of her toes, a trail running down from his neck to her forehead.

"The rain was nice," she said finally.

"At least it wasn't that cold," he sighed.

"Felt good." Probably because it had been chilly, and the wind sweeping through the garden and across her body had done a lot to wake her up again.

"Feel good now?" he asked, moving down a long corridor.

She opened her eyes a slit to watch the doorways pass them, counting in her head. "Mm, not good exactly."

"But not bad?"

"Yeah." Tired, so tired, but at least she wasn't dizzy, despite Castle carrying her down the hall and her head higher than her heart.

Hunt moved ahead of them at some gesture from Castle that she felt but didn't see, and Hunt took the key and opened the door, pushing it wide. Castle carried her inside even as Hunt turned on the overhead light - a glass orb with painted scenes around its bowl - and then she was being laid on clean sheets in a huge bed, towels piled near her head.

"You're in there with him," she heard Castle saying. She turned her head and opened her eyes, saw Hunt opening a connecting door. Castle nodded towards the far room. "I'm going to lock him in with a key I'll get - which means you're locked in with him. At least for the night. In the morning, you get defensive duty at this door."

"I can run for supplies," Hunt said, crossing his arm. "You can't really show your face, you know. All over the news. Collective knows _him_, of course, so he can't either. But I can go."

"We'll see," Castle said, but it was his _I've already thought of that_ voice. He probably had always intended for Hunt to do that. "I'm going to set up the equipment. You go back down and find a way to let Black into this place without going through the front door. You understand?"

"I got it. You want me lookout in the pouring rain."

Castle was suddenly at her side and he snagged a towel, tossed it in Hunt's direction. "Here."

"You're so generous. No _wonder_ you and your father get along so well."

"Hunt. I'm not in the mood. Whatever it is you're doing here, whatever your agenda is, I don't think you're an idiot. But neither is he. In fact, he's probably smarter than both of us. The only one who's ever gotten the best of him is right here - and she's not exactly in a position to take him on. So work with me here. All right?"

Kate closed her eyes, wondered if that was true, any of it was true. She had no idea. She couldn't read the expression on his face while it was turned away from her, and his voice was in absolute control.

"Aren't I already working with you?" Hunt said, but then she heard the door open and close again.

"Hey, you okay?"

Her eyes startled open and she saw Castle easing down to the bed, sitting at her hip. He had a fresh towel in his hands and made a careful swipe down her face. She smiled, turning her head away from it.

"I'm okay."

"Safety check?"

"Mm, heart's a little fast," she admitted. "But it's not hard to breathe. Just really tired, Castle. I'm really tired."

"And wet," he said softly, a crooked smile. "Let me get those clothes off you and the IV running."

"The catheter can come out?"

He frowned.

She sighed. "I don't like it."

"You can barely sit up without passing out. How are you going to go to the bathroom?"

"You'll help me." Distasteful as that was. "And it gives me a goal to work towards." And she ached from sleeping on her back, needed desperately to turn over, though curling on her side might have to do.

"We'll see. Not tonight though, Kate. Too much going on."

Too much for her to add one more thing he had to be responsible for. She closed her mouth and stopped fighting him.

"Bed is better than a cot, though, right?"

She sighed and slid her arm along the mattress to hook her fingers around his wrist. He flipped his hand and caught hers, squeezing. "Much better," she told him. "But I'm tired. I'm sorry, I'm gonna fall asleep."

"Go ahead. I'll start the IV - trying to balance out your electrolytes - but you go right ahead, honey."

Her eyes were already closed; her consciousness already melting away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Close Encounters 23**

* * *

><p>Castle left the room when she was asleep so that he could procure the maid's master key from the little hook downstairs. He made a dummy of it with silly putty and a fast set compound, and then he slipped the key back on its hook.<p>

When Hunt showed up outside in the hall, drenched in rain and making puddles on the hardwood, he had Black in tow. Castle's father definitely looked worse for wear, which had been the point; hopefully, he'd be too exhausted to make mischief for them.

Black was ushered inside to the connecting room, both him and Hunt dripping rain to the carpet. Black cast a sidelong look at Beckett asleep in the bed, but Castle pushed him inside the attached room and locked the door after him - with Hunt inside.

Castle sank to his ass in the chair near the door and closed his eyes, relief pouring over him. He was supposed to text Mitch when they were settled, but it was three in the morning and Castle was wiped, utterly and completely drained.

It wasn't physical; no he was too super for that right now. It was only mental, the stress of this untenable situation. But he had no choice, no recourse. This was just what had to be done.

After a moment with his head back and his eyes closed and his body beginning to cycle down, Castle finally pulled his phone out of his pocket.

There was a message from Mitch. _I'm enroute. Expect me around fifteen hundred Thursday._

Good. Finally - back-up he could count on. Castle texted Mitch the confirmation of their location and then he struggled to his feet. He left the phone on the bedside table and reached down to strip off his shirt. It came in a clump, damp with sweat and rain. He left it on the floor, began unbuttoning his jeans to take them off.

He ought to shower. She needed to shower too, and her hair - shit - he should have done something before now. They just hadn't had the facilities for it, not with Black right there and the bathroom so tiny.

He had a list a mile long of things he should see to, but Castle was done. For now, anyway, he was finished. He needed four hours of sleep, at least, to recover from these last few days - he'd had no sleep at all, maybe he'd passed out once on accident - and he just needed a couple hours. Just a handful and then he'd be back, good as new, ready to protect her.

He slid into the bed wearing only his boxer briefs, his legs stretching to the end of the bed. Kate had curled on her side, the catheter bag attached to the bedframe at the foot, the IV bag hanging from the newel post at the top of the headboard.

Settled, at least, and the blue light of the alarm clock washed her face in forgiving shadows, made her look merely tired.

His head hit his own pillow and tension unwound, began to seep out of him. He drew the blanket up to her chin, smoothed it down her hip, left his hand there, needing the curve of her under his palm, just for tonight, just to reassure himself.

She was placid in her sleep. Her breath lightly stirred the air between them, and he leaned in just enough to dust a kiss to the end of her nose. She felt warm, this close, warm and less likely to disappear.

The heart monitor was hooked up; the alarm had been set to its highest volume and would alert him, wake him immediately if something changed. And he could do what was necessary to save her. Though Logan had warned him that repeated use of atropine wasn't ideal, it was all they had from their last supply run. Tomorrow, Hunt would go out and search for a few other drugs that Logan had texted Castle about.

Nothing to do until morning dawned - a few hours from now.

His fingers trailed up her ribs to hook around her bicep. She was breathing, her heart was beating, she was close to him in the bed. He skimmed his hand down to her elbow and held on.

Closed his eyes. Let sleep take him.

* * *

><p>She wasn't sure why she was awake, only that she was, that she'd been sleeping or unconscious for the last handful of hours or days, and maybe it was the itch of the IV port in her arm.<p>

She tried not to scratch at it; she had to think about not scratching.

Kate managed to recall that she was no longer on the army cot, that the softness under her cheek was a hotel pillow, the sheets warm and laundry-scented, and across the mattress was her husband, deeply asleep.

Well, likely not too deep. He never did get far under when he was on the serum, and never when he was in the middle of a mission. She didn't touch him; she wanted him to sleep, plus she was too tired to move. After a while she could see him in the clouded-moon darkness, the darker relief of his profile.

His jaw was shadowed with stubble, dark patches where the scruff was growing in thicker. She found with her eyes that spot where it didn't grow, the scar from the point of a knife digging under his chin. She usually liked to put her tongue there, touch that smooth spot, her teeth catching the rough places.

She missed it. Missed the ease of sliding into his side and touching him. She couldn't touch if her life depended on it right now. Just too tired, too wrung out. She was a wreck, and he wouldn't want her touching him anyway, not like this.

They had a couple days here in Lontzen, recovery and recuperation, while they waited for Mitchell. Mitch was coming all the way from New York, collecting pieces of one of his German identities, and it was no wonder it would take-

Oh, shit. Shit.

It was Mitchell's team on their son's security. They were pulling Mitch from the very most important job he had.

"Castle," she hissed, arm jerking out. She hit his side and he yelped, came awake in an instant.

"Kate," he rasped, rolling over and practically into her. "Kate - what-"

"James," she urged. "He-"

"Not here, he's home. He's safe," Castle sighed, petting her hair back, hand heavy as if stroking away a nightmare.

But she was awake; this wasn't a nightmare. She knocked his hand away. "Castle. Wake up. James. You pulled Mitchell off his security-"

"No, no," he said hastily, getting up on one elbow. "No, promise. He's safe. Mitchell's team is still on him."

"But _Mitch_ is coming here," she hissed.

"But Reynolds and Esposito both are in contact with the team. Espo said he'd take night shift too. And your dad is out at the cabin with him, so there are guard units around the woods."

"Oh," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"I promise you - I would never leave him unprotected."

"I know," she said weakly.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered, sliding closer. His hand was still on her jaw, fingers twined in her hair. "I'm sorry. It's okay."

"It's okay," she murmured back. She wasn't at all sleepy, but the exhaustion was heavy over her. That surge of protection for her son was abating, leaving her wrecked.

"Hey, I'm sorry. He's safe. He's very safe. And Black is _here_, so..."

"Yeah," she stuttered, laughing a little.

"You okay? Too hot, too cold-"

"Kinda hot," she mumured, nudging her chin into his hand like a kiss. "Sweatshirt is uncomfortable. Took the pants off."

"You kicked the sweatpants off?" he laughed, was laughing, his hand skimming her bare hip, skirting over the catheter. God, she wanted to be done with that; she wanted to be done. She was decided - she'd get up in the morning, _walk_, she'd prove the bag could go.

"Was hot," she answered. "Help me with the hoodie?"

"Of course," he said. Already his fingers were on the zipper, easing it off. The IV line was still in, so he couldn't take it all the way off, and the sleeve hung there, trapped by the tube.

"You could unhook-"

"No. Saline during the night. Logan said." He made a little noise. "I'll bunch it up on the pillow if you can keep from moving."

"Yeah," she sighed.

"You're doing good, Kate."

"Don't be patronizing."

He laughed then, and damn, did that sound good, his laugh this time. Much better. She smiled in the darkness and his fingers came and traced her lips.

"I see that," he murmured.

"I made you laugh," she whispered, brushing her lips against the rough pads of his fingers. Calloused from all that training, from handling his weapon, or the pull-up bar in the Office gym, the kettlebells, the general harsh treatment. She loved those hands, these fingers that knew her so well.

"You made me laugh," he echoed on a sigh. His touch extended out along her jaw and back to her ear. "If you can - and _only_ if I'm sure you can - tomorrow we could try to wash your hair."

"Oh," she murmured. "That would be so nice."

"Then sleep, Kate, honey. You're going to need it."

* * *

><p>Castle opened the door to the attached room and saw first that Black was up and showered and bushy-tailed, the bastard, and that Hunt was neither. The man had probably not wanted to turn his back on Black all night; Hunt was sitting in the lone chair in the bedroom, rigid and waiting.<p>

Castle wondered if he'd been there all night. That wasn't good. If Hunt hadn't gotten any sleep, he did them absolutely no good as a guard. But...

"Hunt, you're with me," he said briskly, ignoring his father. Black was apparently attempting conciliatory efforts to get past their defenses, Castle had no doubt, but he wasn't going to be fooled by the subdued, eager-to-please demeanor. He knew his father much too well for that.

Hunt looked ragged when he stood up, but he had two guns in his hand - one Castle recognized. Black's knife was in Castle's possession, and it looked like Hunt had gained Black's only other weapon sometime during the night.

"This is his. Show of good faith, he says." Hunt held it up, finger in the trigger guard, and Castle took it from him.

"Into the other room. Go." He covered Hunt's retreat, and cast a measuring look at his father. Black was sitting on the only bed that looked slept in. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

Black opened his mouth but Castle ignored him. He went back through the connecting door and closed it, turned the key in the lock with a satisfied thunk.

Hunt was swaying on his feet, casting Beckett these wary looks; he even had a hand against the wall for support.

"Get in the chair," Castle muttered. "Sleep. He's in there; I'm in here. You can get some rest."

"God." Hunt expelled a breath and ran a hand through his hair, pressed the heel of that hand into his eye. "I'm exhausted. I drove across the country with that damn ambulance for you, and then the moment I get a chance to rest, she's arresting in the back of the bus."

"We all know you're a damn hero," Castle said sharply. "So sit down, get some sleep."

Asleep, Kate shifted in bed, looked like she was coming around. He moved to her side even as Hunt collapsed into the wingback chair, and Castle sat on the bed, waiting for her to wake.

"Cas.." she rasped, eyes opening slowly. As if held down with weights. He skimmed two fingers over her brow, pushing back the hair that had fallen in her face.

"Hey, babe."

She smiled and her eyes dropped closed for an instant before opening again. "Feel good."

"Told you the saline would make you feel better."

"Not gonna say it," she murmured. _You were right._

"We both know it's true, that's what matters." He cleared his throat, glanced over his shoulder but, shit, Hunt was already dead asleep. "He's in here to get some sleep. It was one-eye-open last night, I think."

"Deserves it. Made his bed," she muttered.

He was surprised; Beckett was usually the merciful one. Probably whatever had gone on with Hunt at the embassy had left a sour taste in her mouth.

"You want to try washing your hair?" he said then. "We can start with sitting you up for a little while. Logan said after the chelation you could try bananas, water, soft foods. Some nuts, he thought."

"Should ask Carrie," she said. "Help me sit?"

"Good call." He pushed his arm under her neck and around her shoulders, carefully guided her upright. His heart was pounding, nervous to have her moving around, but he stacked the pillows behind her and gave her a gradual incline. She wasn't, strictly speaking, actually upright. She was lying on a slant.

"I'm good. Promise."

"You feel dizzy, you tell me."

"I will. Email Carrie. Or text Logan to email her. She helped before. After Russia."

"Yeah, I will. That's smart." He pulled his phone out and sank back against the wooden headboard, watching her in between composing his text message. She looked better even than she had last night, and he was glad to see that the saline was nearly out. He could detach the IV line and close the port, and then if she kept doing well, if she did eat some real food, then they could take out the catheter. Good progress, all of that, if it happened.

He was trying to modify his expectations, but Castle was just naturally a damn optimist. He just _expected_ things to go his way, and half the time he was convinced that they did merely because he had. Projecting doom and gloom felt like asking the Universe to call it down on his head, and so he superstitiously held on to his rosy vision.

Couldn't help it. He really could see this working out now in a way he hadn't been able to 24 hours ago. He understood, viscerally understood, exactly what position Kate had been in after that super virus had nearly killed him, just how desperate it had made her feel.

He was pretty fucking traumatized. He wouldn't be getting over this soon, no matter how bright the future.

* * *

><p>"Logan said no."<p>

Kate growled at him and clenched her fists against the mattress. She took a breath and closed her eyes, tilting her head back just so she wouldn't have a tantrum. Not even _James_ had tantrums. Oh, he cried, he cried and he got pathetic and clever and whined, but he didn't lose it like Kate wanted to lose it right now.

"He said no, and I don't think you could _do_ it," Castle went on. "You can't even walk, Kate."

"Can't walk until I start _walking_," she muttered. She didn't want to talk about this. She wanted the damn catheter out and she didn't want to be peeing into a bag that he had to fucking change. If she had thought having a baby dispelled the mystery, then damn, this was completely busting it up.

"He said leave the catheter and see what happened tomorrow."

Eating bananas and chocolate pudding and drinking gatorade.

"Kate."

"Fine," she got out. She shouldn't be petulant with him; it was her own damn fault. Doubling up on the pills like they were nothing, like they were just more vitamins and not this elite regimen finely-tuned for American super soldiers - of which only her husband had survived.

Damn it.

She was such a fucking idiot.

"Kate," he sighed.

She worked hard to open her eyes, clear it off her face, but when she lifted her head and saw him, he wasn't nearly as upset and sad for her as she'd thought he would be. In fact, he looked like he was holding back a grin.

"What are you smiling about?" she muttered.

His grin absolutely split wide over his face and he nudged her shoulder with his. They'd spent all day side by side in the huge, king-sized bed, and he didn't look like he was leaving any time soon.

"You. Smiling about you. Gotta be feeling pretty good if you're pissed at me."

She huffed at him but dropped her cheek to the top of his shoulder. "Not at you. Myself. I did this to myself. I _knew_ better, but when it comes to my own - I don't know, it's not like I forget that I need to be healthy for you guys. I just didn't..."

"You're pretty blind when it comes to your own needs, Kate. You put me and James and our family first, but not only first - second and third and fifth and four hundredth as well. You're so far down the list that it scares me."

Kate went still, the taste of chocolate pudding still on her tongue. "I don't want to scare you. I scare you?"

"Consider me absolutely terrified," he muttered. "But this - this wasn't exactly your fault. I haven't been paying attention. I didn't want to pay attention. I wanted the whole program to just - go away. Like if I clapped my hands over my ears and closed my eyes real tight, it wouldn't be there. But it's not going away. It's a part of me. Of _us_."

She carefully moved her arm, the port closed, IV gone, but it felt bruised, the bones ached. She found his wrist and circled it with her fingers, holding on to him. "It is a part of us. Of our family. I know we don't want it that way, but it is."

"I'm not burying my head in the sand anymore. I swear to you. We'll tackle this together, all of it. We get you figured out and I'll take what I need, stop fucking around with it."

She let out a shaky breath, like years' worth of tension had been taken right off her shoulders. Shit, she was so relieved. She hadn't even consciously been aware of how much this had wound her anxiety tighter and tighter.

His fingers bent down and captured hers, drew her hand up so their palms kissed, rested there.

"I'll try not to scare you," she promised back. "I'll push myself up a few numbers on the list, yeah?"

"How about a good couple hundred or so, Beckett? How about at _least_ number three."

She smiled into his shoulder. "You, James, me?"

"Matches my own list," he murmured softly.

She laughed, and even though her eyes were heavy and the dizziness still came when she moved her head too fast, she felt pretty fucking great. She was _alive_.

Might be a different story tomorrow, but today, this afternoon, she was here with him.

"I can make myself third," she said. "You'll help me."

"Hell yeah I'll help you."

* * *

><p>Castle planted his hands on his hips and surveyed the bathroom. He was determined to wash her hair, if only to keep her docile for now, keep her from trying to stand up and make her own way into the bathroom.<p>

She _had_ to be feeling better; she was entirely too pushy.

"I don't know what we can do here," he called back. The ensuite bathroom was nice enough, it really was, but the bathtub was deep, obviously a luxury, and entirely too awkward. "But it's a European shower - the detachable thing, you know?"

"You can make it work. I have faith."

Castle snorted, still studying the set-up. She had to feel pretty good if she was yelling at him from the bed, insisting on washing her hair. Well, why couldn't she sit in the tub? He wished he'd thought to have Hunt get a beach chair while he was out, one of those low-slung seats. Might be hard to find in April though.

"Hey, babe? What if you just sit in the tub?"

There was a moment of silence that stretched on longer than he liked, and Castle jogged back into the room, anxious.

But Kate was on her side in the bed, her cheek against the back of her head, an introspective look on her face. She shifted a knee slowly. "I don't think I can sit up that long," she sighed.

Oh? Wow, he hadn't seen that coming. "Thanks for - being honest," he said. He felt a little choked up. "I think I'm shocked."

"Don't be mean," she muttered.

Probably best that she thought he was being facetious. The truth was a little too pathetic. For both of them, really.

She really needed a shower. Not just the days without washing her hair, but there'd been the mud from the rain that first day, the sickness and sweats, the rough living in a little apartment. He needed to do this for her.

"You know what?" he said suddenly. "Fuck it. We'll dump all the bedding into the bathtub, pile it up behind your back, and just do it."

"What do we sleep on?" Her protest sounded a little half-hearted, and she had this sly smile flashing across her face.

"We can ask downstairs for clean bedding." He didn't care; they already stood out. He'd registered with his invalid wife and her male nurse in the dead of night. That kind of thing would be noted, so might as well have to hang the bedding up to dry.

"Yeah?" she said softly.

"Yeah." He shrugged and came in close to the mattress, snagged the comforter. She laughed like she thought he was kidding, so he pulled the bedding straight down, exposing her bare legs to the air.

Goose bumps erupted but she was grinning at him, still curled half on her side with her hand under her head, not moving much. That was fine, let her conserve her strength. He was heartened just by that smile.

He reached out and tugged on a short hank of her hair and she uncurled her hand, caught his wrist. She hummed, but there weren't any words, just a tired acknowledgment.

Castle dipped the mattress with a fist and kissed the prominent ridge of her cheek. She released his wrist and he bundled the bedding up in his arms, headed back to the bathroom.

He could figure this out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Close Encounters 23**

* * *

><p>"He's still in the connecting room," Castle said. Kate watched him shut the door and lock it again, and her shoulders eased.<p>

She was reclining against the pillows in bed, waiting on him to 'secure the perimeter,' as he'd said, before they started. She was already stripped down to just panties and a bra in preparation for a sponge bath in the small bathroom. "And Hunt?"

"Not supposed to be back yet. He had to go out to Verviers for supplies; it will be a while." Castle came in close, leaned over the mattress. "You ready?"

"As ever." She wrapped her arms around his neck and he scooped her up. It took everything in her to hold on to him, but she wasn't going to give him up. She wanted to be close, right up against his chest; she needed it.

She was better, but things weren't right. She still wasn't right.

When he navigated her through the doorway into the bathroom, she glanced down at the bath chair he'd concocted. It was one of those jacuzzi tubs, European style shower with the nozzle, but there was also a flight of three shallow steps that led up the side to the deep basin.

"Hey, we don't have to get the bedding wet," she said, nodding towards the tub. "Pile it up on those steps and I can lean my head back. I'd just be resting against the side."

Castle paused. "Huh."

She turned her smile into his t-shirt and let her eyes fall shut, taking a second to rest.

Castle grumbled as he thought it through. "Yeah, that's a better idea. If I put you down on the bath mat-"

"I can take it," she laughed. She hoped anyway. She could test her endurance a little here, see how much she had in her.

"All right. But maybe lie down on the rug. It's soft - deep pile, too."

She might do that. She probably only had the energy for this one thing, and no point wasting it on sitting up for thirty seconds.

Rather pathetic, but true.

Castle lowered her to the bath mat, arranging the catheter bag so it wouldn't tangle. She went ahead and put her cheek to the fluffy rug, felt his hand push through her hair and scratch her scalp as he left her there.

She managed to keep her eyes open, watched him gather the duvet cover and position it across the shallow steps. He frowned and went to the bedroom, came back with two of the four pillows, bunched them up at the right angles of the steps.

"I think that will work," Castle murmured. He came back for her, scooped her up like she weighed nothing, and then he laid her against the duvet. She could feel the steps digging into her hip and ribs, but she could stand it.

"Good," she said, nodding at him.

"Good," he echoed, a sigh of relief. He moved past her to turn on the water, and she let her eyes close.

She was glad she hadn't said something about the hard edges; she could handle a few bruises if it meant she could get clean. She really wanted that, really wanted to be rid of the lingering sweatsick.

Castle's fingers came to her neck, his other palm cradled her head and lifted so that he could comb her hair out from under her. She could tell just how short and irregular the length was just by the movement, and she opened her eyes to see his face.

He didn't look so great. He looked grieving, actually, his eyes morose. His fingers kept getting caught in tangles, and a few times he gave up even trying to get them free. The feel of his hand in her hair and his warm skin at the back of her neck was lulling, and she found her eyes slipping shut again.

He lowered her head to the top edge of the bathtub, positioned just far enough back that her chin went up. She felt goose bumps flare over her skin and she crossed her arms, laid them over her stomach to keep in her body heat - what was left of it.

The water suddenly roared into the tub just past her head, a thunderous rush. She felt the spray at her temple where it was bouncing back, and then the close press of Castle's body as he reached over her to adjust the temperature.

He smelled rather ripe himself, oil from his skin and the musk of old adrenaline. He probably could use a shower after this, get clean, take some time to decompress under the hot water. She'd have to push, insist on it.

"There we go," he said. "Okay, I'm going to grab the nozzle and get your hair wet. You ready?"

"Yup. Ready."

"Tell me if it's too hot."

"I will." She realized her eyes were clenched tightly closed and she tried to relax. Just then the whine of the pipes changed pitch, and the water sprayed instantly against her face. She gasped, laughed as her lashes dewed, but Castle had already angled the nozzle away, was wiping her cheeks with the hem of his shirt.

"Sorry," he said, but he was chuckling. "I didn't realize it was so forceful."

"I'm okay, I'm good," she said, grinning up at him. He pushed his fingers through her hair and held the back of her head to brace her.

Then the concentrated spray from the nozzle hit her again, but far back on her scalp so that it merely soaked the ends. He carefully worked it higher, and the heavy weight of the water in her hair was doing wonders for her tension. Her body began to warm up again, the goose bumps faded, and she let her awareness drift.

She was half asleep with it when Castle turned off the water. She heard him squeezing out shampoo and then both of his hands were in her hair, working the soap into a lather. It was quiet now, with the water turned off, and his hands moved capably. He massaged her scalp, rubbed his thumbs at her temples and back along her hairline. His forearm kept brushing her nose or cheek as he worked; his body was a tantalizing warmth just hovering over her.

She opened her eyes at a pause and saw him there, regarding her, and when he saw that she was looking, he smiled.

"Hey," he roughed, sounding tender and surprised.

"Thank you," she couldn't help saying.

He dipped his head and his mouth brushed hers. "Anything."

And then Castle was turning on the spray and rinsing her hair clean, the drugging sensations of warmth and weight and white noise making her eyes fall shut.

He did the conditioner too, and it took a long time to work it into her tangled hair, despite the short ends. He kept at it though, untangling the clumped pieces, little chunks of mud that she could actually feel come out. He didn't stop even when she thought maybe it was enough; he was sapping all of her strength this way, her whole being like clay in his hands.

"Feels good," she murmured.

"Good," he breathed. His kiss dusted her cheek even as his elbows bracketed her ears, his hands in her hair and working deeply into her scalp.

Kate shifted her arms from her stomach and opened up to embrace him, loose, weak, but touching him. Castle moved closer, his knees pushing up against her shins, giving her some leverage. He cupped the back of her head in both hands and she opened her eyes in time to watch as he dipped his head towards her again.

Their lips touched.

She was immediately breathless, heart pounding so hard she felt it shaking her against the steps, but she held on to him by her fists in his shirt. He didn't move, just hovered there, staring down at her, love moving through his eyes, deep, unfathomably deep.

He kissed her again. Light, so light and delicate, and she could weep with it if her heart wasn't clutching at a rhythm.

He withdrew then, fingers running out of her hair, and then it was back to business, the water coming on and sluicing out the conditioner, his eyes on the job.

Her heart slowed and came to normal - as normal as she got right now - and then Castle sat back on his feet, his wet hands on her knees, squeezing.

"Ready for the washcloth?" he said. One of his eyebrows raised.

"Very." She gave him a crooked smile, and he drew her knees down, straightening her legs a little. Her blood rushed to her cheeks, her fingers tingled, wanting to touch him.

"I'll be careful around this," he murmured. "But I have to clean it too."

And just like that, the electric buzz going through her crashed and fell apart. The catheter. Right.

"Yeah," she said, nodding.

"You okay?"

She shook her head quickly. "Fine. Good, I'm good. Just tired."

Tired of this. Tired of being a medical patient instead of a wife.

* * *

><p>Her bra was hanging from the knob of the bathroom door, her panties on the counter. Castle had been tempted to put a towel down on the floor and make her lay flat, but she looked to be hanging in there. And he had an idea that she was already frustrated and a little mortified and he didn't want to make her feel worse about herself.<p>

But now that she was clean, or at least a soapy washcloth passed over her skin, he was a little mortified himself. Her hair was just... butchered. Black had hacked at it.

"That bad?" she said, wincing.

"It's just - not a straight line," he sighed back. He reached for her, fingers curling at the back of her neck as he helped her sit up. She stayed though, not even swaying, and he used his other hand to comb through her hair.

"Not a straight line." She turned her head experimentally, and he could tell she felt the wet locks against her neck and shoulders, judging just how crooked it might be.

Pretty crooked. It looked like his father had gotten two hacks at it, the first straight and the second slanted, so that the hair on her right was longer than the left, nearly to the bottom of her shoulder blade.

"Can you trim it?" she asked. Her hand came up, shaky, and she carefully tried to tuck her hair behind her ear. It fell forward again, the left side shorter and curling now because it was drying. "At least make it even, Castle."

He hesitated, eyeing it, but he couldn't possibly let this go. "I can - try."

"I want to video chat with my dad," she murmured. "He can't see this."

"Yeah," he said roughly, nodding. "You're right. I'll - do my best. Can you sit up?"

"I can for this," she said grimly.

Castle sighed and nodded to the stairs set into the side of the tub. "Want to hang out here or-"

"Yeah, but bring me a chair to sit in while you get the scissors?"

"A chair?" Could she possibly? "I've got to run down to the front desk and ask about a pair of scissors, Kate. The ones from the first aid kit aren't going to work."

"I can survive sitting in a chair for the fifteen minutes it takes you."

"Plus cutting your hair?"

"You want to get going? - Or do you want me to waste more energy-"

"Fine, fine," he hastily. "I'm going. Let me get your chair."

Castle eased away from her, not willing to be bullied into that decision if she looked like she might faint, but she stayed determinedly upright when he let her go. So he jumped to his feet and headed into the bedroom, took the desk chair from the little table set against the wall.

He was tempted to wrestle the wingback chair into the bathroom, but he wasn't sure it would fit through the doorway. Plus he couldn't get to her hair if she was in that chair.

This would have to do.

Castle set it up perpendicular to the bathroom sink, thinking she could lean her shoulder against the counter, even put her head down if she felt weak. Then he draped a clean towel over the chair and scooped Kate into his arms, carefully put her in the chair.

"Thanks," she murmured, and her felt her lips brushing his jaw as he stood up straight.

"I'll be right back," he promised.

She nodded.

He glanced at her critically, not sure he liked leaving her naked in the bathroom like this. "You warm enough?"

"Yeah." She patted the chair. "I can wrap the ends of the towel around me, if I need to. It's wide."

He leaned over and grabbed another towel, their last clean one, and he dumped it in her lap. "I'll get more from the front desk."

She wasn't sighing at him, at least there was that. Castle turned around and headed for the door of their suite, tugging the key out of his pocket. It was just the door key, not the master - he didn't want to lock her in, just in case.

When Castle got out into the hallway, he jogged easily down the corridor and headed for the front stairs. It was late in the afternoon, nearly evening, the sun beginning to set. It would be about two or three back home when Kate would get a chance to finally video chat with her father, and that meant James would be awake too - or at the tail end of his nap.

She might not want to see him. She was funny about that kind of thing; he'd say almost superstitious, if he didn't know her better. She just kept things compartmentalized so that she could deal; she needed James at home with her father in that box so that she could handle being separated from him.

Castle knew it. But he selfishly wanted to see his son, see his face, that smile as he chewed on his fist. Or his foot - he'd gotten his foot lately.

The front desk had changed shifts, and the woman at the welcome counter gave him a smile - and he realized he'd been smiling first, thinking about James. She asked him if he needed help and he asked for towels and to borrow a pair of scissors.

It took a little bit of time to find him a pair; apparently there were some in a back office, and she had to send someone down the hall because she couldn't leave the desk. Castle smiled nicely at the woman while they both waited on the teenager to come back. He tried not to look anxious; it wouldn't do to be remembered like that.

When the boy came back, Castle thanked him and the woman, a stack of fresh towels in his hands, and he went back up the front staircase, taking them two at a time in his hurry.

He'd made it to their hall when he realized something was - wrong. Off. He didn't know what, or if it was just that strange perception he got sometimes when his super levels were high, but it was prickling his scalp, making him hurry.

Their door was open. Wide open.

Castle swung inside, already crushing the towels to his chest and drawing his weapon with his free hand, barreling into whoever was standing stock still just inside the room.

Hunt.

"Fuck. What are you-"

And then he realized. The bathroom door was open, Kate asleep in that desk chair, only a towel partially drawn up, falling down where she didn't have the strength to tug it higher. Her bare knees, the full length of one of her long legs, and the round blush of the tops of her breasts were visible.

Castle slammed the bedroom door shut and Hunt, only mildly displaced by being rammed by Castle, turned around with both hands up, already in supplication.

Castle shoved him back, knocked him clear into the wingback chair, and when Hunt moved to rise again, Castle tossed the towels and scissors onto the bed and swung a punch at Hunt.

The Scotland Yard inspector took it, and he stayed down this time, fingers wincing over his jaw where blood dribbled. Castle's wedding ring had cut him.

"Fucking hell," Hunt breathed out, but he didn't stand. He stayed sprawled in the chair.

Good.

Castle picked up the pile of towels and the scissors again, moved back to the bathroom where Kate was still sitting. Awake now, after he'd slammed the door shut.

She gave him a hard look as he closed them up in the bathroom, and he dropped the towels to the counter.

"You didn't have to do that," she said.

"Yes. I did."

The heat in her gaze was blazing, anger and humiliation both, but he'd done what was necessary to defend both their honors. He wouldn't take it back.

"He wasn't _looking_," she hissed. "What is there to look at?"

"Plenty," he growled, anger still glittering in him like broken glass. "You still want me to cut your hair or what?"

She huffed at him, and the towel dropped from her breasts. She splayed her hands out as if in challenge, and then she pushed against her knees to keep herself up. "Yes. Straight as you can."

He took the scissors and the comb from the counter, and he moved behind her to start evening out the hack job his father had done.

It was a day for fixing things, making them as right as he possibly could.

* * *

><p>Kate studied her hair in the mirror, turned her head to one side and then the other. Whatever else had gone on with Castle and Hunt - she'd heard a punch, some cursing - the man had left midway during her haircut. They had both heard the door open and close again, but Castle hadn't looked at her, and she hadn't mentioned it.<p>

Her hair wasn't that bad. Short, yes, but not shorter than it had been in the past. It would brush her shoulders when it was straight, and now that it had half-dried, it was a soft shag around her head, curling at her neck and ears.

It wasn't that bad. She had easy hair, thick and well-bodied, and she'd never had trouble with it. She could pull off a hundred hairstyles and it wouldn't ever be that bad. One time with a much shorter cut, she'd let it grow out and her hair had looked rather mullet-ish. Even that hadn't been so bad. Mostly.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, still on his knees behind her.

Kate turned and reached back for him, fingers tugging on his bicep, trying to get him to his feet. "Don't be sorry. I kind of like it," she said softly, smiling at him. She didn't want that punch-out with Hunt to wedge between them. "If you like it?"

He frowned. "Do you really like it?" He reached out and slipped his fingers through the curled pieces around her ear. "It used to be so long. James - sorry-"

"No. What?"

"He likes to hang on to your hair, I know, and now-"

She laughed, pressing her hand to her mouth, surprised. "Castle, that drives me crazy."

He blinked. "It does?"

"Absolutely. But... _you_ liked it."

His jaw dropped.

"I thought you did anyway," she hedged, biting her bottom lip. She really didn't feel confident enough for a conversation like this, the kind where she ended up exposing the vulnerable underbelly of her love for him. She didn't want to do that right now. "It doesn't matter-"

"I did," he said roughly, clearing his throat. He was staring at her. "I _love_ it long. I don't even know why, except how it feels against my fingers, my chest, I'm sorry. I - if I'd known it was just for me, I'd never have-"

"It wasn't _just_ for you," she muttered. But maybe it was. "It was just - easy to let it grow out and I like... you." God, that was lame.

But his face split into a wide grin. "Yeah? You like me."

If he made her blush, she would kill him. Kate slapped ineffectually at his chest and he caught her hand, still grinning.

"You let your hair grow out because you like to make me happy."

"You're insufferable."

"You're adorable," he shot back, and the absolute reverence in his voice made her feel good again.

"Hmm," she said, thinking it over.

"I like your hair short too," he said quickly. "I mean, I don't like why, but it's a lot curlier when it air-dries. I guess cause less weight, but I like it. Makes you look - sexy."

She lifted an eyebrow. Sexy. Sitting wrapped in starched white hotel towels with a catheter bag taped to her leg and her wrist bones sharp again?

"Like when we're in bed," he said slowly, grinning at her again. "And everything is - you know - messy and hot. Like that."

"Oh?"

Castle did it again, his fingers running through her hair, scratching lightly at her neck. "Yeah. Definitely. It's good. Good, Kate."

"Good," she agreed. "How about you find me some clothes so I can call my dad?"

"Yeah," he nodded quickly. He got to his feet easily, a hand on her shoulder in comfort - for her or him, she didn't know - but he turned and headed into the bedroom for her clothes.

She kind of wished he had carried her to bed; she was exhausted.

At least the bathroom counter was right here. She might have to put her head down for a second.

* * *

><p>Castle had come right back to the bathroom only to find her asleep with her head pillowed on her arms on top of the counter. When he'd drawn her into his arms to carry her, she hadn't even woken up. He had known better, he really had, but he'd forgotten; he'd let her make him forget.<p>

So he'd carried her back to the bed and arranged everything, saw to the catheter bag, checked the closed IV port to be sure. She'd been without IV saline all day, but Logan had been insistent on waiting for more until tonight.

With Kate asleep and barely making a dent in the pillows, now Castle didn't know if that was right. Maybe she needed nutrients, maybe she needed another round of chelation with a different chelating agent, maybe he should have checked her blood before now.

When she was awake and talking to him and smiling, he could forget. But practically unconscious with her sleep and her eyes in dark shadows and her body nothing more than a line, his confidence was shaken.

Hunt was out of the room again. Probably to ice his jaw, though Castle hoped he'd gone by the back stairs, since he was supposed to be their male nurse.

Hunt better be out a good long while, if he knew what was good for him.

Castle pulled the covers up over her and smoothed them down at her shoulder. She was on her side, had shifted there before he'd seen her move, and her shirt had ridden up, the thin cotton twisted up under her arms, exposing her back.

Holy shit. She had three thick lines of bruises up and down her spine.

Castle sank down to his knees, staring at her back. When had _that_ happened? From carrying her? From-

Damn it. The steps against the bathtub. She'd been lying there for nearly an hour, the jutting steps pressing into those exact spots.

Castle growled to himself and jerked to his feet, strode purposefully for the connecting door.

Enough. He'd had enough.

Time to rouse his father and get a new plan. She had to be better than this. Had to.

* * *

><p>Kate never got to call her father.<p>

Castle had gotten it into his head that something was wrong - she'd just been tired, still was tired - and he'd roused Black from the other room and dragged him into the fray. They'd done bloodwork and her levels were unstable, her potassium dangerously low.

Blood pH, that was what they were saying now. And another round of chelation, this time with a different agent. She didn't understand anymore, how taking minerals _out_ of her body was supposed to help resupply potassium, which was a mineral in the first place.

Black was hunting through the city's pharmacies looking for a way to concoct just what he needed but she and Castle were debating the merits of this 'treatment' at a time like this. In desperation, Castle had sent Hunt out for a new phone and now they used it to conference call Logan and the medical team, Castle wanting Kate to talk directly to them about how she felt.

Logan had gotten word from Carrie, and their friend had been worried - worried enough to demand in on their phone call - and now Kate was listening as meekly as she could while Carrie read her the riot act. She was supposed to eat bananas and potatoes.

"When your potassium levels get this low, Kate, it makes it hard for the body to hold on to it."

"I don't understand," she murmured. Castle was listening in on his own cell phone, conference call, and the shiny gold iphone in her hand was brand new. "Carrie, I don't understand why-"

"Black says more chelation," Castle said tightly. "Is that right?"

"You said he'd done dialysis?" Carrie asked.

"Yeah. A kind of - yes. Sort of."

"I don't know. Dialysis often causes hypokalemia - low potassium. It's normally regulated in the kidneys, though, and what he's doing doesn't sound like kidney dialysis. So I can't say for sure."

"Logan? You still there?" Castle went by the bed in his furious pacing, and Kate reached out, grabbed the corner of his back pocket. He jerked to a halt, though she didn't have that kind of strength.

"I'm here," Logan said over the line. "And Carrie's guess is as good as ours. Kidney dialysis affects potassium levels. It does. But we don't know what it is he's doing. Chelation affects minerals levels, and potassium is a mineral, yes. But we just don't know that what he's doing is the same."

"Increase in insulin would stop you from losing potassium," Carrie cut in. "If you're going to do it, if you can't trust him."

"We'd have to tell him," Kate mumbled. "In case it's - something bad. If injecting insulin contraindicates with the therapy he's doing. Or at least confront him with the fact that we know it takes out potassium."

"That might shake something lose," Logan said, but he didn't sound convinced of either direction.

"I don't like this," Castle growled. He was standing still beside the bed and staring down at her, darkness moving over the surface of his eyes like a shadow. She could see it, see what it was doing to him, but she could do nothing to stop it. Nothing to relieve it either.

She was so tired. It wasn't right, how so very tired she was.

He sank down onto the bed next to her and caught her hand, squeezed.

"I think if he says - if he says this will work, Castle, what can you do?" Logan said weakly. "I don't know what option you have. Her blood levels are just all wrong. They don't make any sense. Low blood pressure and low potassium should go hand in hand with dehydration, but she's not dehydrated. That makes _no_ sense."

"Not a bit," Carrie agreed. "And maybe you _need_ a lower potassium level for whatever it is he's doing to you. Maybe that's a requirement - the only way it works. Maybe it has something to do with the PK pump and how much water your cells take on. I just don't know."

"And he won't explain," Kate sighed. "I think we're just going to need some blind faith-"

"I really don't like this," Castle muttered. His hand was so tight around hers. She wriggled her fingers to make him loosen up but he couldn't seem to do that.

"We'll have to tell him what we know, what our concerns are," she said into the phone. To him. To him because he couldn't go on blind faith when it came to John Black. She knew that, she just didn't see a way around it. "We'll just have a conversation before he injects anything else into me."

Castle's eyes were intense on hers; she shrugged one shoulder, propped on her side in a half-reclining position. Her head was still swimming even after all that sleep and now her back was bruised and sensitive.

He sighed. "Logan?"

"She's right."

"Carrie?"

"It's a really bad position to be in, I know. But-"

"Damn it," Castle breathed. His eyes closed, and suddenly he was moving, sliding under the sheets with her and wrapping an arm around her neck, pulling himself closer to her, closer, until her chin bumped his forehead and the phone was awkward. "Damn it all."

"I'm sorry," Logan said.

"Text us his explanation," Carrie said. Her voice was the faintest on the phone, probably due to the conference call. Last to be added, worst quality. "Whatever he says, maybe we can at least confirm or deny that much."

"Don't count on it," Logan muttered. "This is science so far beyond what we thought we knew. The mitochondrial aspect alone is giving us fits. I'm sorry, shit; you don't need to hear that right now."

Castle hung up. Kate reached out and took the phone from him, darkened the screen. "Guys, we'll let you go. We will text you. Just to keep you updated. In the meantime, see what you can get. Thank you."

"Yeah." That was Logan, and a good-bye and good luck from Carrie, and then she ended the call as well. Castle had his eyes closed, she could just see, and he was curled like a parenthesis to her own, his knees knocking into hers. His big body took up so much of the bed, he was crowding her, he was her whole horizon.

She pushed the phones under the pillows at her ear and hooked her arm around his. "Hey. Castle. Hey."

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

"Don't be sorry," she murmured. "Please, stop. I'm not leaving you. I'm not dying. I'm not."

"I just-"

"I know. I so completely know. You and I - we have been through this, haven't we?"

"I'm sorry about Tunisia," he whispered. His eyes flared open, so blue now, all shadow gone. Just aching blue. "I'm sorry I didn't understand about the regimen and me practically dying and all of it. I'm sorry I pushed you out there."

"We got James," she said, trying to smile for him.

"We did," he said gravely. So dark now. Not happy.

She didn't ask, couldn't possibly ask. She didn't want him to regret that - his _dream_ for them - she didn't know what she'd do if he regretted their son.

She just couldn't die. That's all there was to it.

She just couldn't.


	5. Chapter 5

**Close Encounters 23**

* * *

><p>When Castle's question went completely unanswered - <em>again -<em> he was ready to lose it. His father steadfastly ignored him on every point. If Black thought he was just going to push more chemicals into her IV without explaining it first, he was more fucking cracked than they'd known.

"I'm going to _strangle_ you," Castle choked out, reaching out to yank his father back to him.

Black only crossed his arms over his chest, avoiding Castle's grasp. "You won't strange me. You need me. She needs me."

He wouldn't. He couldn't. He needed his damn father. "Tell me what it is. What it means to you, the low potassium levels, the elevated white blood count. Tell me."

"I won't do that. So long as I have this knowledge in my head, I have the chance to stay alive," Black answered. So calm, so damn calm that his face gave absolutely nothing away. Instead of his solitary confinement making him rethink his actions these last few days, Black had used that time alone to build himself stronger, to achieve a rational eye of the storm that had always - always - done Castle in.

He'd been trained to rein in his emotions, reign over his own damn mind. Trained to subdue the terror, the anger, even the sympathy until he was a machine. Trained by the man in front of him, who was as machine as possible in this moment.

But Black had always gotten the better of him. At least until Castle had figured out the trick: disconnect and shut down. Separate and detach from the main - from humanity, from higher emotion, from culture and art and beauty and life. Compact, contained, fire-walled. Safe, flat, standard.

"Rick," she called to him from the bed.

Kate had her own ways of dealing, coping, that included that kind of compartmentalization, but Kate was brimming with emotion. She kept it in reserve, but it was such a damn deep well. She locked it away. In fact, she probably couldn't bear to even think about their son right now. It'd be too much. Too much.

Castle had been trained to swim shallow, skim surfaces, never get that far down. He had been all charm and charisma and seduction with no substance.

Until Kate. And truthfully, a few years before he'd met her, the revolution had been taking place within him, a need he'd felt echoed in his mind and heart after years of watching Eastman and his wife, years of broken relationships. And then his father's betrayal, his father shattering the shaky construct of a life Castle had built around a woman in the office who had been - it turned out - a spy.

That whole tragedy with Sophia Turner should have sent him straight back to the machine. It should have solidified his father's hold over his brainwashing: _see what happens when you let it get messy?_ It should have, but then Kate.

Then Kate. And no wonder his father wanted in on this, wanted to fuck it up or destroy it or kill her. No wonder his father needed this in on their lives - they were too solid, too good, too resolute.

Black didn't understand love, but he understood power. He saw power here and he was wresting it from them one handful at a time.

"Rick, we have no choice," she murmured. Her fingers were around his wrist, lightly, not pulling. She'd never force him, never bend him to her own will. She guided, she nudged, she explained, she outright just _went_ for it, but she never abused.

They had no choice.

"You explain this to us," he insisted. Black was standing like a giant in the room, a tilting giant, a tree of a man, old and gnarled. He wouldn't be moved. He wouldn't explain, that much was clear.

"I'll do what's necessary to save her life," Black answered. "This chelation agent will hopefully stop the worst of the damage."

"Hopefully isn't good enough anymore."

Black narrowed his eyes. "It's all you're going to get. Don't forget, Richard. Coonan was the only one to survive this radical, more advanced treatment. I'm giving it to her piecemeal, because there's no way she'd live through the full course. I'm having to extrapolate based on twenty-year-old information. I've got to tease out the individual strands, react to what happens in _her_ body, her bloodstream, to each of these treatments. It's a balancing act, Richard. That's all it is. Sure - I know all the individual steps we took with Dick Coonan, but he turned out to be a psychopath, didn't he? I can guarantee that's not what you want for her."

But there were _no_ guarantees, that was the problem. None where Black was concerned.

"Start it," Kate spoke up. "Start the new chelation. I can handle it."

Castle had thought they were over the hump, that it would be gradual recovery from here on out. Looked like that wasn't the case. It was touch and go, his father was saying; it would just _be_ touch and go with her blood chemistry for a while.

"Richard. Stand aside. I need access to her IV."

In the end, his father's training stood him in good stead. Because it took an extreme force of will and self-discipline to move away from Kate and let Black into that spot beside her.

* * *

><p>Kate had drifted off sometime during the third hour of chelation, but she roused to Castle's touch on her arm.<p>

"Kate," he whispered.

She opened her eyes and had to lick her lips, her mouth dry. "What time's it?"

"Late, honey. I've got to meet Mitch. He's on his way."

"Mm, 'kay."

"Hunt is here. So's Black. You'll be okay?"

"Course," she murmured. She'd thought to get back to sleep, but she didn't think she could do that now. She was dragging along the ragged edge of consciousness, trying to stay above the surface. "What time?"

"Nearly midnight. You've had five hours. You're off it now. Not even hooked up. But Hunt's going to keep watch, make sure you're stable."

"'Kay," she murmured. "Wait. Where're you going?"

"Just to the border to meet Mitchell. I gotta sneak him in the back stairs."

"Hm, okay." She got it now; she did. Hunt was here at one side, Black the other. Castle dusted a kiss on her forehead and she felt the shift in the room and then heard the door open and shut again.

She dozed for a long time, something she hadn't meant to do, and then there was a faint light that she felt across her cheek like a touch.

"Katherine."

She gasped and came awake, and it _was_ a touch, it was Black right there beside her, his face so close she could smell his breath. Peppermint and - something.

"Katherine."

"Shit," she gasped, clutching the sheets in the faint light. From the bathroom, she thought, and she saw Hunt asleep in the wingback chair.

"Katherine."

She turned her head and Black was there, right there, eyes dark in the low light.

"Katherine, calm down. If I wanted to kill you, I'd hardly wake you up for it."

"Wouldn't you?" she got out.

He chuckled. "Ah, perhaps. Good point. But this is a good time for us to chat, Katherine, don't you think? With my son out of the way, not ranting and raving every time I speak your name."

Well, she could definitely do with some ranting and raving about now. She just needed - something like that - a wall of bluster between her and Black. At least her voice hadn't cracked when she'd answered him.

"You are perhaps not at your best. I am well aware of that. But you ought to listen to what I have to say. Your issues with the regimen can be used for good. After something like this, you know Richard will never again abandon the program. Isn't that what we both wanted?"

She sucked in a rattling breath, tried to _think_, gather her wits so she wouldn't say the wrong thing. "I don't want him on the program," she said. "I want him healthy. I want him to live. I don't want him on your program."

"My program _is_ his life," Black said. But the nasty edge was gone; he was calm, he was completely in control. "And we both know that. Now, look, we can go on doing this, dancing around each other, distrusting each other, but you and I - you and I can come to an agreement."

"What?" she said hesitantly. What could he possibly want from her.

"I trust you with his - his life," Black said slowly. "And you - do you trust me with his?"

No. No, but...

"I may not particularly approve of _how_ you and he are living that life," Black went on smoothly. In the dark, the faint shadows from the bathroom nightlight made his face grotesque. "But he's here. Is he not? He's still a CIA agent, and now he's back on the program if only for your sake."

"My sake?" she murmured, frowning.

"He saw the cost. Unable to get to you, not paying enough attention because his concentration was scattered, unable to simply carry you across the park. Because of you, he took that injection of serum and he's more than capable again."

God, that hurt. That hurt in a really deep place that she didn't have the strength to confront right now.

"I know how this works," Black kept going. "I see how it works now. If I want him, then I need you. _You_ control him."

"I _love_ him," she choked. Her hands gripped the sheets again and she tried to rise, to sit up, to _face_ him, damn it, but Black put his fingers against her shoulder and kept her down.

"You love him. Fine. Name it whatever you must to make it palatable. You love him, ergo you own him. Which means that you and I, Katherine, need a deal."

"No," she said finally. "No. I won't."

"You want to live? You want to make it out of here alive?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Would I do that?"

"I think so," she said. "I think you would. Unless you could use me to hurt him."

"Who said I wanted to hurt him?"

God, help. It was like the devil himself had slithered up beside her to whisper in her ear. She tried to keep from falling apart, tried to keep from falling into his _trap._

"Katherine. I don't want to hurt him; he's my son. And now this boy, James, carries on the genetic line. I want him to claim his _inheritance_. He has a destiny-"

"Stop," she shouted. But it must not have been loud enough because Hunt still hadn't woken up.

Was he alive? Had he been struck unconscious?

"His destiny. You've seen it, what the program can do - and also what happens when you neglect it, when you tell yourselves you can do without it, when you think you're somehow _better_ than the program. Richard, James, even yourself - you _are_ the program."

"Me?" she whispered. She couldn't, not for a second, believe that Black wanted her in his legacy.

"Much as I hate to admit it; it's a done deal, is it not? You're here now because of it. Weak. Fragile. Unbalanced. Your life rests in my hands, Katherine. I have done everything in my power to save you. I will continue to do that. You have my word."

She had his _word_? "You're going to save my life."

"Our army group experienced these toxicity issues which caused a massive instability in their blood cells - not even the stabilizing pills were enough to reverse the damage. Chelation was our only recourse. When we tried to extricate the serum from their systems, those soldiers... well, they went AWOL. There was an incident. Coonan lived - but he was never the same. I believe your mother was a result of that-"

"Damn you," she growled, closing her eyes. Coonan? She'd known he was - but Coonan had undergone this same treatment? And what, it had poisoned his mind? Great. Fucking hell. She and Coonan were... connected.

"Understandably, you're upset. I'm sure Richard would have told you all this - had you been conscious."

"Just - just get on with it. I have your word that you'll keep me alive - to the best of your ability. And what am I supposed to do for you?"

"Use your influence to keep my son in the program. The wonderful thing about our deal, Katherine, is that I don't even _need_ your consent. You control him without even trying. He's going to try for _you_, to keep _you_ safe, and all _I _have to do is let you live."

"Then why the hell are you talking to me?" she hissed. She felt sick. Not her head, not her body, but her heart. Her heart was breaking for Castle. "Why tell me any of this?"

"It would make it easier if you believed me, knew precisely where I was coming from, so that you and Richard would stop fighting me every step of the way. Calling in this Logan and his team from Stone Farm. Second guessing. I can - probably - save your life. But not if my decisions are being second-guessed and you both are pushing your health to the limits by costly waiting."

Kate turned her head away from him; she wanted to close her eyes but in no way could she do that, despite his assurances.

She actually believed him. She believed he was going to try if only because keeping her alive meant having a measure of control over his son.

She hated it, but it was true to a degree. It was true. It was what had saved her life in Tunisia with this man, and it was doing it now.

Castle's love for her. It wasn't about control. It was about love.

"Good girl," he murmured. "You rest. Sleep, Katherine. You know I'm right. See? You're - even now - still alive."

She shivered in the darkness and prayed Castle would hurry. She didn't think she'd be sleeping any time soon.

* * *

><p>The sound of a hoot owl and then the low trill let Castle know who was out there. He came close and flicked his headlights once and then the passenger door opened and Mitchell slipped inside, sweating, bleeding, panting against the seat.<p>

Castle hadn't wanted to tell her what the real problem was.

Mitch had gotten pinned down.

"You okay?" Castle said tightly.

"Am now."

"Sorry. I forogt your cover was-"

"No, don't. Don't even apologize. I brought what you need." He held up the backpack he'd been carrying in one white-knuckled hand. "Got it through."

"Thank you," Castle said gravely. He started the engine but didn't turn on the headlights, slipped the vehicle slowly back onto the lane. He'd liberated the truck at a mechanic's garage, but it had been in the lot where they parked the ones they'd serviced. He would put it back tonight and hopefully no worse for wear. Wiped clean of course.

"Whew," Mitch breathed, finally moved to get his seatbelt on.

"I forgot your cover," Castle said. "I forgot. That's - unacceptable. How's the wound?"

"Fair to middlin'," he grinned. "Bleeding some. But I hear you got a little clinic running."

"Unfortunately true."

"You can patch me up when we get there."

"I'll do that," he breathed. "I'm glad - more than glad to have you. Lifesaver, Mitch."

"Aren't I always?"

Castle swallowed past the lump in his throat, tried to clear it out. "You're something anyway."

"How's she doing?"

"It's up and down," Castle answered honestly. He felt it sitting on his chest.

"I'm sorry you had to come get me. She's left there with Black?"

"And Hunt," he said. "Hunt is - something anyway."

"What's his deal with Black, you know?"

"Independent contractor, best I can tell. It seems to be all Black has left these days. No one's loyal to him. They all _know_ him too well. But Hunt..."

"Probably there's blackmail on him. Dirt. Can't be that he's just that-"

"Why not? He could be just that unscrupulous. He ogles my wife at every meeting, even with me right there in the room."

"Yeah, but hell, Castle. Who wouldn't?"

He laughed, surprised by it, but the amusement hit him hard and dragged the noise out. It was a siphon for his tension too, so that his hands relaxed on the wheel.

"I mean, she's hot."

"You can stop now," Castle muttered, but the grin was still there.

"She's had a _kid _and yet, damn, look at her."

"Seriously. Any day now."

"Seriously, any day now, I'm gonna make my move."

"And she'll put you on the floor."

"It'll be worth it. Kate Beckett towering over me."

Fuck, just like that, Mitch had him buoyed, had him certain that day would actually come. Not that Mitch would make a move on her, of course not, but that they'd all be back home with Mitch making sly little comments and Kate laughing at him and everyone just fine. Home.

Castle reached across the console and punched Mitch in the thigh - avoiding his arm where the blood still seeped. "You bastard."

"Don't even know why you keep me around."

* * *

><p>They left the truck in the mechanic's lot and Mitch didn't make a single sound of protest as they hiked the last quarter mile to the chateau. Castle carried Mitch's gear, wrapped his hand around Mitch's good arm, and they made it.<p>

He used the master key to get into the back kitchens, and they made their slow way up the servant stairs to their hall. The sconces lighted the way, giving them a clear and glowing path, and Mitch didn't complain.

"You good?" Castle finally asked. He didn't want Mitch pushing it.

"Will be," he huffed. His wounded arm was on the other side, away from Castle, so he couldn't even check to be sure Mitch was telling him the whole truth.

He unlocked their door and came inside slowly, just in case Hunt was armed and trigger happy after a night with Black.

But Hunt was passed out in the wingback chair and his father was awake and reading a book in the desk chair pulled up at Kate's bedside.

Kate was awake. "Castle," she said.

God, what had happened here?

"Hey, Beck," he said giving her a smile. She was propped up a little against the headboard, her skin pale, face wan, but she smiled back at him, so much relief in it that he wanted to make someone hurt.

"Mitch," she murmured. Her lips twisted into a frown. "What's wrong with you? What happened?"

"Got stuck," he grinned, moving directly to her bedside and sitting on the mattress - right between her and Black. "Need some TLC, Beckett. You gonna patch me up?"

"No," she said shortly, but a spark had come back to her eyes. She released her fists and lifted a hand, and Castle saw it was shaky, but she had some energy.

She'd been awake. Black had been awake. Hunt was _still_ not.

"You knock him out?" he said to his father, ignoring Mitch and Kate pushing his sleeve back to see the wound. "You inject him with something? He's not going to like that when he wakes up."

"He'll be fine," Black said smoothly. "Just sleeping. Nice and deep. He didn't get much of that last night."

Castle grit his teeth and shot a look to Kate, but she was keeping her eyes steadfastly on Mitchell, and he knew it had been bad. Whatever had happened. She'd been awake.

He settled the backpack on the bed at her feet and came around to sit on her other side, putting his back to the headboard so he could see everyone. Even Hunt. Mitchell was wincing and moaning as Kate rotated his arm, but the barbed wire had gotten him pretty deep - there might be muscle damage. Good thing the knife had missed.

"I got it, Kate," he said, nudging her aside with his elbow. She stopped manipulating Mitch's arm and Castle reached past her to tug Mitch closer. "Sit here. First aid kit's open."

Mitch shifted positions and Castle leaned down to grab the plastic case with all their medical gear. It was on the floor between Hunt and the bed, and it was open.

Castle had left it closed.

Black had definitely injected Hunt with some kind of sedative. And after running around all day and not getting much sleep - other than a two hour nap this morning - it had easily put him under.

Castle dragged the kit up and grabbed what he needed, threaded the needle while Mitch made small talk with Kate. How she felt, symptoms - how she'd liked her tour of Belgium.

Kate's hand came to his thigh at some point; he didn't pause, didn't look, but it told him enough. He kept stitching Mitchell's bicep, felt her burning hand at his jeans, branding him with all the surfeit of emotion she still had churning under that facade of cool, quiet calm.

Her fingers tightened and he cast her a quick look, saw only that she was wincing for Mitchell, whose face had twisted up at the corner as if drawn to a point - the point of his shoulder, matter of fact, where Castle was knotting the last stitch.

"Don't be a baby," he snorted. "You've had worse."

"But never with such a brute of a surgeon. Damn, Castle, you do your best to make it ruthless, don't you?"

"He always has," Black said into the general amusement.

Castle's mood sank like a stone.

Kate squeezed his thigh and he ignored Black, moved to smear antiseptic cream over the stitches. He bandaged the shoulder with fresh gauze, taped it down, and nodded.

"Good to go."

"Thanks, man." Mitchell immediately stood up, tall and impressive as he stood over Black. "Come on. Get up. You're going back to your hole."

Castle felt easier now, having Mitch at his right hand. Hunt was totally gone in the wingback chair and Mitch was shepherding Black to the connecting door.

"Mitch," he called. His friend turned and Castle tossed him the master key. Mitchell caught it and nodded, and then he moved to get Black settled again.

Kate was quiet in front of him, and Mitch had pushed Black through the door.

"I should have locked him away," Castle growled.

"You thought I might need - his help," she answered. But her eyes were pinched in the corners.

"What happened?" Castle asked, taking her hand that was still heavy on his thigh.

"He just talked," she said. Her eyes roved over his face. "He just pointed out what I already knew."

"Don't be like that," he said harshly. "Tell me-"

"I will. I am. I'm telling you." She hooked her fingers in his and canted into his side, leaning hard into him, and he felt awful for pushing, for insisting on the details when she was so raw, so defenseless.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into the top of her head. Her hair was pretty like this, he thought, soft waves around her face, curling at her neck. He stroked his fingers along her cheek and tucked a lock behind her ear. "Take your time."

"He just said - said I could trust him to save my life. Because you - because you were under my control. And now I'm under his."

"You're not. We're not under his control."

"To some degree," she sighed. Her body was melting into his, sinking. "We are."

"No," he insisted. "We're not. It feels like it because we're out here and cut off, but it's not the case. If we were at home, this would be different."

"I'd be dead, most likely," she murmured. "And if we were at home, it would be because Black didn't have the control over us he already has."

"He doesn't control us," he growled. "He doesn't. I won't let you be a slave to him. I won't-"

"It's okay," she sighed. Her fingers stroked his side, his hip. "It's really okay. It hurts me to think I've done this to you but-"

"No, you haven't done-"

"But I love you. I do love you. And I don't think it could have gone any differently."

He let out a tight breath, a clutch in his chest, and she curled even closer, one leg held away, the awkward fit of their bodies with all the medical paraphernalia between them.

"And I love you," he sighed. "I really do, Kate. I - wish it had gone differently, but not that."

She nodded against him. "Don't let him use me against you."

"He won't." Castle made a fist and smoothed it out again, going for calm, getting it under control. "He won't, Kate. I promise you that. I _can_ promise that because I know now. I get it. What it's like. I won't do that to you."

She let out a shaky breath. "And just - just don't - no, I'm okay. I'm okay. I made it, survived that, and he won't - he wants me alive for now. So there's really... he sees that I'm beneficial to his master plan."

"So I don't have to worry?" he muttered.

Kate did laugh then, she actually laughed. Her arm was weak around him, but holding on. "Exactly. No need to worry."

"Well, I'll reserve judgment on that one."

"Thank you," she murmured. "Just - thank you."

"Don't thank me. Stay alive. That's the gratitude I want. Stay alive, Kate, stay with me."

"I'm doing my best." Her words were spoken into his shoulder, her body losing its fight to stay alert. "Think I'm falling asleep, Castle."

"You can," he promised. "You sleep, honey. I won't move."


	6. Chapter 6

**Close Encounters 23**

* * *

><p>"She tell you what happened last night?" Mitch said quietly.<p>

She was asleep at his side, had been all morning, like only now could she fully rest, now that he had back-up in Mitch. They spoke quietly, but Castle kept glancing down at her to make sure. Make sure she was still asleep, make sure she was still breathing, make sure he hadn't lost her while he hadn't been looking.

"What happened was more of the usual. He twists things around to make people believe the worst." Castle tried to shrug like it was nothing, but he felt his jaw working, tense. "Though what he said isn't completely untrue. Something happens to her and I'm - shit."

Mitch nodded. "We all know that." He was unpacking the bag he'd brought with him, risked his neck to bring them. "Here's the pills, and another injection from Boyd for you. Modified, this one, to pull out some of the addictive agents that Black's version brings. And, most importantly, these are for her."

Mitchell held up a silver case, laid it on the bed. Castle didn't move from his spot as Kate's human pillow - she had bruises down her back and he wasn't going to shift her off of him - but he wanted to snatch up that case and cling to it.

"Open it?" he asked his friend.

Mitchell leaned forward, unsnapped the two latches. Four vials were nestled in the foam. Precious stuff, that cargo, and Castle had been counting on Mitch arriving with it. He hadn't breathed a word to Kate, not sure how she'd feel about it.

"Did they say when she should-"

"First one as soon as she starts taking food."

"She had bananas and pudding - soft foods today."

Mitchell nodded. "Yeah, so you should give her the first one. And then a vial through the IV each day after chelation. Not too close together though. Logan said give a healthy space of 12 hours on either side."

So every other day. Castle leaned slightly forward, barely disrupting Kate's sleep. He tugged the little clear vial from the foam, wrapped his fingers around it. "They tell you what it is, what's in here?"

"James's immunities," Mitchell answered quietly. "From the blood they drew."

Castle let out a long breath and nodded. Threkeld's idea, and cautiously broached via Logan. But Castle would do anything - short of draining the kid, of course. It had been more than a pinprick though, more than just a little blood taken.

"You tell her that you took her kid's-"

"No," he said sharply, eyes snapping to Mitchell. "And don't you dare say it like that either. Not to her. I know what I did. If it works, I don't care."

"I saw him," Mitchell said quietly. "I held him before I left. And Jim's good; he was glad to see me, and I told him I was coming to pick you guys up. He's worried. I did my best on that front."

"Thank you." Castle eased out from under Kate, the vial in his hand and warm now. He had to diffuse this in a bag of saline, hook her up to the IV. But his chest was tight and when he was finally on his feet, he glanced to Mitch. "You held him?"

"Yeah. He stuck his fist in his mouth and blew spit bubbles at me. He was talking too - chatty little sounds. I guess no real words."

"Yeah," Castle roughed, nodding briskly to keep it down. He felt old, hearing about his son but nowhere near that place.

He took a sterile needle from the first aid kit and a bag of saline they'd mixed themselves, and he drew the precious solution out of the rubber-topped vial. When it was in the bag, Castle hung it over the headboard and inserted the line into the port, started the IV.

His heart was racing, but it was hope. He _hoped_ this was one more weapon in their arsenal, and something his father had no control over whatsoever. If it worked, he wouldn't have to rely so heavily on Black's being willing to do the right thing.

James was a closed loop, they'd said, James's systems had worked to correct the deficiencies on their own.

It might help Kate. It might. It couldn't _hurt_ her either, which was lightyears better than the chelation treatments.

Mitchell patted his shoulder. "This will do it. She looks good, man. She looks better than I expected; she's hanging in there. This will be the one good shove she needs to climb out of the hole and then we'll get you back home in no time."

Castle turned to his friend. "Thank you for coming. Thank you for doing this."

"Any - and every - time," Mitch said seriously. Then his smile slipped across his face. "Though I did it for her. She's the hot one."

* * *

><p>Kate woke pissed off. So very angry that her blood rushed under her skin and her face felt like it was lit up. She struggled to get straight, fighting off a heaviness that she only then realized was Castle.<p>

She shoved on him and he grunted, withdrew his arm. "You okay? You need something?"

"No," she said. "I want up. Let me sit up, Castle."

"Okay, okay," he mumbled. The room was dim but the light was trying to break in around the cracks in the shades. She was weak, and unable to push herself up, but Castle helped her, propped the pillows at her back, unwound his limbs from hers.

She sat there, breathing hard, but so angry. Probably some damn dream, but it clung to her still. She was done with being broken, done with being jerked around by Black. "I'm furious," she spat out.

Castle recoiled, but she grabbed his forearm.

"Not you. I'm - fuck. I'm really fucking pissed off at him. He's an asshole and he's _using_ me to get to you and that's not - why are you laughing?"

His mouth snapped shut, but his eyes were still roaming over her face with amusement. "No. Not laughing, Kate. Not at all."

"It's not funny."

"It's not," he said, but his intonation was all wrong. His face broke into a smile. "You feel better?"

"No, I feel fucking angry." She glared back at him, not at all pleased with his condescension. "I'm weak as a damn kitten, as you like to say, and he's using me to _hurt_ you, to control you, and that is the last fucking thing in the whole world that I-"

He kissed her, and she was so startled that she swallowed her breath, his tongue sliding quick and full along her bottom lip and back out again.

She blinked, he grinned, and his hands dropped.

"Hey," he said. "Guess what?"

"What?" she whispered, her whole body in a riot.

"He can't use you to control me. Not as much anyway. Mitchell brought something for you from Threkeld and I put it in your IV and I think it's working."

She stared at him.

"Don't be mad," he said belatedly, his face falling. "Don't be angry, Kate, I-"

"I'm not-" She was. "Not mad," she lied. "Not mad. What did you do to me?"

"An infusion. This one has some antibodies in it," he answered. He was smiling, but it was so very hesitant now. That she could read the subtleties on his face made her aware of just how much better she actually was.

"And?" she prompted.

"It's... derivative," he hedged. His eyebrows knitted together and he picked up her hand, thumbs drawing in the cup of her palm. "It's from James."

Her heart flipped. "What's from James?"

"The infusion. It's - like the reverse of breastfeeding, I guess, in some way. Threkled had this idea that if they could replicate _his_ system's immunities, it would contain the repair agents that have kept him..." Castle trailed off, closed his mouth.

_Alive._ Was that it? Whatever kept him alive despite their mishandling of the whole thing, despite how desperately inadequate she'd been for him.

Her chest ached.

"Don't look at me like that," he husked. "It's okay. He's okay. I'm sorry but you didn't want to talk about-"

"No, I-" Kate shook her head slowly, hanging on to his forearm. "It's not that. I'm just - blindsided. A little. I didn't expect..." She trailed off, silence thick and fraught with meaning between them.

"But it looks like it's working," he said, a question in his voice.

She did feel - not better exactly - but different. "That's what Mitchell brought with him?"

"That and some stabilizers. I - uh - asked Black to inject me with the serum. The usual. Which I haven't had in about a year. So Mitchell brought the pills with him."

She took a breath and smoothed her thumb along the hair over his forearm. It scared her a little, all the decisions Castle had made just to keep her alive, impetus, impulsive, and while she trusted him to the death, of course she did, he was gambling with his own health by doing it.

"Are you upset with me?" he murmured. "It wasn't a lot, Kate. They drew blood only twice, and your dad told Mitchell that he only cried at first."

She lifted her head. "I'm not upset with you. I'm - upset, but not you. You're only doing what you have to. I... that's something I understand, and after Tunisia, I can hardly hold it against you."

"But."

"But I'm - I'm furious with this whole thing," she bit out. "It's my own damn fault, not paying attention, and I knew better. Holy shit, did I know better. But what - I thought it couldn't affect me? I thought it couldn't hurt me? I knew better."

For a moment, Castle didn't answer, and she knew it was only because she was trying to frame his response exactly right. She waited, because she was a powerful kind of angry, but it was all pointless. There was no where to put it, and being pissed that John Black had once again gotten to her didn't help either.

"We make mistakes," Castle started. "We both do. We're doing this for the first time, all of it, and just like we cut ourselves some slack with the parenting, we cut ourselves some slack with the regimen. It happened, it's a learning curve. And now we know, Kate."

She didn't like that either. "The learning curve on this is too steep for mistakes. There's such a slim margin for error - there's _no_ margin for error, and I did this to myself."

"You had help. I was the one who got you pregnant; it was _my_ idea, hey, let's have a kid despite the fact that we're _spies_ and life is completely unstable for us. Let's do something impossible, let's fuck with the universe and see if it doesn't fuck us-"

"Please don't," she said tightly. She drew in a narrow breath, avoided his eyes, avoided the bitterness she heard in his voice. "Don't. I can't - can't do this if you regret us-"

"I don't _regret us_."

She shot him a glare. "Then what? What, Castle? You regret our son?"

His face washed flat and he turned his head.

She was going to be sick. She needed to get out of here. She couldn't-

"What are you-" he started, but she was shoving past him, pushing past him for the bathroom. He barked out a harsh _Kate_ but she was already on her feet and rushing to the toilet. She wasn't going to make it. Oh God, she wasn't going to make it.

She hit her knees at the tiled threshold and crawled to the bowl, vomiting so hard that she collapsed against the porcelain. Castle was right after her, holding her up, trying to get a handful of her hair off her cheeks, and she threw up again, choking on it, tears streaking her cheeks.

She felt him at her back, his arm around her to give her the leverage, and she threw up once more, gagging as the stomach acid burned her throat. Her cheek fell to the rim and she closed her eyes, gasping, trying to catch her breath through tears.

After a moment, she realized Castle was babbling into her neck, his body pressed so close he might as well be skin to skin. He was whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I don't regret him, I don't, I love him."

* * *

><p>She fell asleep hunched over the toilet. He hadn't realized all the ways his heart could be shredded inside his chest until this day. He washed the sweat off her face and carried her back to the bed.<p>

Mitchell was waiting on him, and he wordlessly pulled the covers down on the bed and helped him get Kate settled. Castle gripped the sheet and put a fist into the mattress, glanced up at Mitch.

His voice was rough when it came. "I gotta check the - uh - catheter, where it's - it might have come out after that and I don't want to... It might take a while."

Mitchell gave him a nod and went to the door, left them alone. Castle took a shaky breath and skimmed the t-shirt up Kate's thighs, gingerly exploring the skin around the indwelling catheter. It'd been dislodged, he could tell, which only told on his skill at inserting one. The balloon had half-collapsed under the pressure of her heaving stomach, and so he figured it was time to remove it.

It was clear she could walk, though that had been a rather violent way to prove it. She'd said she felt good enough to have it out, so they'd see how well it went.

He washed his hands first, made sure he got under his fingernails and the dry, cracked places at his knuckles. He went back to Kate in the bed and opened a few packages, and then he untaped the bag from where it lay on her inside thigh. Then Castle used an alcohol wipe to clean the connection between the drainage tube and catheter, concentrating to keep his hands steady and his mind off the last few minutes' horror.

No, no. He wasn't thinking about it.

He'd made her sick. He had-

Castle growled and pulled out a 30cc catheter tip syringe from the package and put it to the bright red balloon port. He slowly pulled back on the plunger, drawing fluid into the syringe until nothing was left.

Gently, trying not to wake her for this, he pulled the Foley cath from her bladder.

Kate didn't even stir.

Castle let out a breath, realized his hands were shaking and sweat had run into his eyebrows. He wrapped everything in the plastic bag from the first aid kit and dumped it in the trash, then came back to her and checked, just to be sure.

She was fine. It was fine. He pulled the sheets up over her again and left her alone, moving back to the bathroom to clean up. Castle washed his hands again and ran cool water over his face, then leaned hard against the sink as it caught up to him.

Did he regret their son?

He wished, desperately, that it hadn't come to this. To killing her. If he'd had it to do over again, he... wouldn't. He wouldn't do it.

No wonder she'd looked at him like that.

Saliva pooled in his mouth and he harshly swallowed it down.

It was starkly clear now. As a father, he just - he didn't have the pieces necessary, he was missing some crucial coding; he was a broken machine. As a father, he was no better than John Black.

Maybe he'd never be more than he'd been built to be.

Maybe he was fooling himself, and worse, killing her doing it.

* * *

><p>Mitchell was waiting outside door. He took one look at Castle and swore, jerking forward.<p>

"I'm fine. It's fine," he croaked. "I just - gotta get her out of here."

"She's okay?"

"She's asleep. I think the new stuff is helping, but what the fuck do I know?" he said wearily. "Could be the chelation. She threw up a few times, but her system has been through hell, and Black mentioned it was a possibility. Plus, I'm an asshole and I don't know. Fuck. I don't know."

Mitchell straightened up. "Hunt is getting a few things we need for the border crossing. She can sit up?"

"Yeah," Castle said. "At the moment, yeah. Don't know how long that will last."

"I had a conversation with Black. I thought about running a play on him, but he invented the fucking book, so I didn't. I just told him, straight up, that he was with us to Cologne and then after that, we parted ways."

Castle nodded, realized after a moment that Mitchell was pale and lean, that hungry look of a man on the run. How much sleep had Mitch gotten last night on the damn floor? And then guard duty after that. Castle hadn't been paying attention and Mitch had been cut deep.

"You said barbed wire," he noted. "Last night I wasn't looking too closely, but now I'm thinking..."

Mitch shrugged.

"You got a knife wound," Castle said quietly. "And what else, Mitch? What did you hide?"

"Shallow stuff, Castle. I owe you, and this is how I repay a long list of debts. I owe _her_, you know. For Russia. That I don't think I'll ever pay off. So let me do my thing, trust me to know."

"I can't have you fall."

"I won't," Mitch said. And suddenly the man was clapping a heavy hand on Castle's shoulder. If he weren't super, his knees might have buckled. "And you, brother. You can't fall either. You hear me? So I want you to go back inside that room and lie down, get in bed with your wife and know I got you covered."

"How much sleep did you get?" Castle said instead, frowning at Mitch.

"Enough. You were up every two hours checking to see if she was _breathing_, man. I saw you."

"Which means you were awake too."

"Means you woke me, asshole. Go back in there. Hunt and I have got this; we're getting everything ready. All you'll have to do is carry her downstairs in about - eight hours. Got me?"

"Eight hours," Castle repeated. He wanted to - he'd needed to do something, work with his hands, accomplish something positive after all this twisted up shit, but now Mitchell was taking that away from him.

"Eight hours. Go get some sleep. Or just fucking - I don't know - fucking _hold_ her, man. Until you get that kicked-puppy look off your face."

Castle shook his head, but his shoulders were hunched up, his body so damn tense that he was practically vibrating. He had wanted to fucking throw things, wanted to get in a nasty dirty fight, and he'd been settling for doing something to get them out of here, but now-

Now he wanted to crawl into bed with his wife and hold her, as if holding her would erase all of this sick, terrible grief.

He wanted to beg forgiveness but he wasn't sure he deserved it.

"Go," Mitchell said, punching his arm. "Just go. You're bringing me down."

So Castle turned back around and went into their room once more, even as he felt himself coming completely undone.

* * *

><p>She woke suddenly, thinking earthquake, but heard him rasping somewhere close, "No, go back to sleep. Sorry, go back to sleep."<p>

Her eyes flared open and she saw Castle sitting up in bed with her, and the mattress was shaking, little hitching movements and she was confused, because they should-

Oh, God, he was crying.

Kate shifted to her side and drew a knee up, managed to drag her wrung out body up along his hip and into his lap. He huffed, a choked noise, and caught her, fingers wet from where he'd been trying to swipe at tears.

"Castle," she whispered, drew an arm around his neck.

"You should - should lie down," he rasped.

"Castle," she murmured, closing her eyes and pressing her face into his shirt, taking a shaky breath. She'd broken him somehow, and she hadn't meant to, but she knew what it felt like, grief just swallowing up everything, blotting out the sky.

"Have eight hours," he muttered. "Lie down."

She completely ignored him, shifted against his side until she realized that the catheter and the bag were out. She felt curiously lighter for it, and at the same time she was horrified - it meant Castle had been the one to take it out.

Damn. Completely not sexy. She was so far down from sexy that it was pretty pathetic of her to even try to hold things back from him. She'd just passed out from _vomiting_, hadn't she?

But she'd broken him doing it. And there'd been some kind of conversation about James and she'd just been pushing hard to keep it out of her head, keep it from settling heavy over her heart, and she might have pushed him instead, too hard, hurt him somehow.

He was crying in bed with her. His head tilted back against the headboard and he was gulping it down. She could feel the work of his throat against her arm where she clung to him.

His fingers splayed at her back, his palm rose up her spine and seemed to hesitate before smoothing back down. She didn't know what to say; it was cruel to make promises. She'd felt better earlier but now she was dragged down again and she didn't have assurances for him.

His arm pulled her a little tighter and then released suddenly, as if he'd only then realized what he was doing. She nudged her nose down into the ridge of his collarbone, getting comfortable, trying to be of comfort. Her knee was pressed to his hip; it felt awkward and yet so good like this.

His fingers stroked slowly at her spine, and she realized what was missing.

"Play with my hair?" she murmured, wriggling down against him. "It's short, I know, but-"

"Yeah," he rasped, which wasn't really an answer. But he shifted his arm to brace her back and his fingers pushed into the hair at her nape, immediately warm and weighting her.

She sighed and slowly, slowly, Castle scratched at her scalp and combed his fingers down through her hair.

She kept her mouth shut now, her eyes closed, though she knew he could hear her - feel her really - the hum of pleasure building in her chest with every breath.

Castle wrapped a strand around his finger, curling it tighter and tighter before letting it spring free. His thumb touched that spot behind her ear that made her melt, and then he found his rhythm, soothing her with the stroke of his hand through her hair.

* * *

><p>She was awake at the end, when their time ran out. He didn't want to move; he wanted to stay right here in the darkness, his hand cradling the back of her head and his fingers in her hair.<p>

"Eight hours," she murmured, reminding him, forcing him to act.

"Time to go," he admitted.

There was a brief knuckle-knock at the door and Kate was the one who called out. "Come in."

Mitchell opened the door. Castle sighed and leaned over, flipped the bedside lamp on, a pool of warm light. Mitch didn't say anything, just nodded, and Kate shifted to her knees first, and then back onto her heels, blinking like a night animal caught out in the light.

"You good?" he asked her.

"Good. Feel good. I could walk."

"No," he said immediately.

"Give me a shot, Castle, and if it doesn't work out, then you get to be the hero. Okay?"

Some of his shaky confidence crumbled, but she crawled into him, hovering on her hands and knees in a position that made him blush, a quick glance to Mitch still standing in the doorway. Kate touched her lips to his cheek and he was having trouble breathing.

"I can do it, and showing you I can do it is what you need. So let me walk to the car, easy, slow, my own speed, and you'll feel better for it." Another kiss, this time on the other cheek. "But you can help me get dressed." This time her lips glanced the top of his eye and when he closed them reflexively, she pressed her mouth to his eyelid. "I'm giving Mitch a show, Castle. So get going."

He choked on a laugh, eyes popping open to look at her, but Mitchell _was_ actually getting something, though the t-shirt was long - one of his - and she didn't seem to care all that much. Sickness did that, destroyed privacy until it was nothing.

Castle leaned forward and drew his arm around her ass, toppled her down against him while glaring at Mitch. "Give us ten minutes to get dressed and packed."

"We're already packed," Kate said at his ear, turning in bed to curl at his side. "Mitch came in while you slept. I pointed things out imperiously and demanded the utmost care-"

"Yeah, you're packed," Mitch interrupted, shaking his head and chuckling. "And Queen Beckett didn't do all that. I'll give you five to get dressed, and be back up here to guide you down."

Castle opened his mouth to say _guide where?_ but Mitchell was already leaving them and shutting the door. He narrowed his eyes at his wife and she only smiled serenely.

"Already packed, huh?"

"I think you were very tired, love." Her lips dusted his jaw and she slid over, just to the edge of the bed. "Now help me. I don't want to wear myself out just trying to wrestle on some panties."

Shit, Mitchell _had_ probably gotten a show. He'd forgotten she wasn't wearing any underwear.

* * *

><p>She was dressed, she was moderately-still-freshly showered, she was walking under her own power down a midnight-shrouded corridor to the servant stairs. With only Castle's hand around her upper arm for support.<p>

She was pretty damn proud of herself, but she in no way let it go to her head. She was still weak from days of chelation and dialysis and no solid food, and she knew she had this tendency to vault herself into untenable physical situations, but Castle.

Castle.

Watchword for the week, month, year. For the rest of their lives. Castle. She had to consider him, she _had_ to. And he'd told her that, time and again, most recently, most brutally in Tunisia, and she had heard but she had also said to herself, _he doesn't know what I've been through._

But he did. He knew now, and as terrible as that was, to have the intimate knowledge of your partner's death - breathing and sleeping and waking with you - it put them on equal footing again. He knew the darkness of his own grief, and she knew hers, and now it was mirrored when their eyes met.

They knew. They knew what it did to them. How very bad, and that wasn't even close to putting words to what it was to sit watch over the bedside and know death was laying hands on the only thing that mattered.

She'd told herself, _he has James now, he has our son and that's enough._ But it wasn't. It wasn't for her, so why had she thought it would be for him? Because he was different, because things didn't stick to him like they did her. That was unfair of her, and condescending, haughty, to say that _her_ love was more than his.

So she took her damn time down the hallway. She was slow. _Slow as Christmas_ her mother used to say. Yes. Slow, steady. She let Castle be a little obnoxious with his help, and they made it to the stairs.

For a second, she hesitated. Eyed the narrow, steep stairs cut into stone and the darkness as it plunged down in a spiral. Mitchell waited with them, waited on her.

Castle was holding his breath.

"Carry me down?" she said, turning her head to him. "And let me walk once we get to the bottom. If you can manage it."

"I can manage," he huffed. But there was a relief tinging the edges of his words. "I'll carry you."

Castle bent and had his arm under her knees before she knew it was coming; she clutched his neck, along for the ride, dizzy at the sudden change in position. She had to lean her cheek against the top of his shoulder, close her eyes.

"Mitch," Castle murmured. She felt his arms flex around her and then the drop to the first step. Her feet brushed the center stone column around which the stairs spiraled, and Castle kept adjusting to avoid the walls.

She opened her eyes after a moment and saw the back of Mitchell's head before them, the blue beam of his cell phone light playing over the next few steps before extinguishing.

Good idea, to be carried. She'd have been miserable going down these steps, trying to memorize the layout like a good spy so that they wouldn't have to use the light. And balance. Hers was in and out, and she'd have most likely brought them all falling down with her.

Castle wasn't even breathing hard. "You good?" he murmured softly, right at her ear. She nodded, but her arms were getting weak, tired from holding on to him.

"You won't drop me," she said, and it wasn't a question, maybe just a warning. She slid her arms down and pressed one palm to his chest, the other to his back, clenching a fist in his t-shirt.

"I will never drop you," he said.

She knew that. Her bones ached in their joints with each thud of his foot down the stairs, despite how graceful, leonine he was as he descended. Her head was pounding.

At the bottom, the light went on for a half a second and then out again and she realized she hadn't seen anything at all.

Castle moved to put her down.

"No," she said, a tightness in her chest. "I can't."

He let out an explosive little breath, pressed his mouth to the top of her head. "Thank you," he whispered.

Well, shit, that felt awful. He was _grateful_ that she was being honest. Like he hadn't believed she would be, or hadn't believed that she would _know_ when to stop.

He didn't put her down, didn't even pause, just followed Mitch down through the darkness of a hallway he knew and she couldn't see, and she trusted him because he was Castle.

She wished he could trust her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Close Encounters 23**

* * *

><p>Honestly, it was ingenious. Castle had to hand it to Mitchell, who'd planned all this with a wounded shoulder and who knew what other injuries. Black was shackled in the very back seat of the all-terrain utility vehicle, handcuffs attached to a metal bar that kept his hands between his knees. But he couldn't complain of discomfort because the chain was just long enough to allow him to sit back in the seat.<p>

He couldn't make trouble.

Mitchell was in the middle seat, weapon holstered into the back of the driver's seat and within easy access. Beside him sat Hunt, who would be leaving their party once they got across the border. He would not be allowed to know their final destination, though Castle was certain he'd said once or twice that they were going to try to reach Cologne. Maybe that had changed; he didn't know. He'd relinquished all control in a minor breakdown back there, and he couldn't yet feel sorry for it.

Kate was in the front passenger seat. The vehicle had seventy percent tinted windows, so it was unlikely for their images to be caught by traffic cameras, plus her seat was lowered practically horizontal. The first aid kit was on the floor between the driver's seat and the passenger, a saline bag pre-mixed and ready just in case, the vials Mitchell had brought nestled in their silver case.

Castle had popped two of the stabilizers after he'd given Kate the infusion, and he felt markedly better. Shit, of course he did - and it wasn't those stabilizers. Kate had crawled into his lap and talked to him for hours, both of them in and out of sleep, his fingers playing with her hair, her hands wandering, all of it rebuilding him moment to moment.

But with Kate away from him now, he could feel the effect those stabilizers were having over him. He warily recalled that they contained mood altering elements, and never before had he seen so clearly just how markedly they were doing their job. His anxiety levels were under control. He hadn't consciously _known_ they weren't until, with some distance, and some enforced physical space from his wife, he saw that he was handling it. He was doing okay here.

And, worse thought, the serum itself really _did_ affect him psychologically. Maybe he had the potential to be as psychotic and crazy and AWOL as those other soldiers had gotten. Only Castle wouldn't snap, he'd just suffer more and more irrational thoughts and behavior until he did something unforgivable.

Well, fuck. He really had to stop messing around with this stuff. He needed to do this right, do it _smart_. It wasn't just him - it was Kate stuck with him. It was _James_ stuck with him, burdened with the consequences of his parents' choices.

He knew it now in a way he hadn't before.

When everyone was settled into the all-terrain beast of a vehicle, Castle got behind the wheel. He had border-crossing duty, since Mitchell's face might be recognizable from the night before, and he had the paperwork all properly stamped and in order. It would be easy enough, a group of friends on vacation, his father in the back asleep, his wife asleep. A camping trip on the river, a night in the city for a concert, anything would work, it was all normal, completely normal.

And yes, it was late at night and that was suspicious, but it was nearly dawn now, and a fishing trip would want to get started, get to where they were going.

Shit, Mitchell had even procured them rifles and shoved them into fishing reel soft cases. They had a real rod, of course, for show if they needed it, but Mitch had thought of everything.

He started the vehicle, the engine purring with its electric hybrid quiet, and Castle looked over at his wife.

Kate's cheek was pressed to the contoured side of the seat, but her eyes were open.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

She smiled. "Get me out of here."

* * *

><p>It was easy; it was so easy. Kate just feigned sleep and the border guards gave the vehicle's occupants only a cursory look. From where her face was turned to the driver's seat, she could see Hunt sitting calmly, reading a book in German, his face unconcerned. Behind him was Mitchell, and below the line of her sight must be Black, keeping quiet, keeping still.<p>

They'd put pillows under his head, she knew, a blanket thrown over him. Castle answered a question about his father being in the back - a recent stroke, recovery was slow, they were hoping the fresh air would help, his brother and friend were with them in case a problem arose.

Kate had her coat thrown over her chest like a cloak, hiding the port in her arm, the tape that kept it stable. She was watching through the slit in her lashes, but she thought she must have dozed off, her consciousness slipping in and out of sleep without her realizing.

She was startled awake by the car nudging forward. She shifted on the passenger seat but kept her eyes closed, let her body go slack again. After a moment, Castle's hand was on her thigh, patting softly.

"If you're awake."

She opened her eyes, still groggy. "Awake. We're clear?"

"We're clear." He was smiling at her. "Easy."

"I saw that," she laughed, trying to push up so she could sit. Didn't quite work, but Castle had a hand around her upper arm before she could say anything, silently helped her shift. Not much higher, not with the seat down like this, but enough that she could see out the windshield.

"You hungry?" he said, his voice pitched low. The hybrid engine was just so silent there was very little noise to mask their conversation from Hunt sitting directly behind him.

"Yes, actually," she said, surprised herself. "Banana?"

"Mitch?" he called back, voice raising. "You have bananas?"

She glanced past the seat and saw Mitchell coming forward with the blanket that had been thrown over Black. He half folded it, kept it on his side of the seat as he took his spot again.

"Bananas. They're not as ripe as you might like." He leaned down and grabbed a bag, pulled out a whole bunch tinged yellow-green. "So not very mushy."

"I'm good with that," she said, smiling. "Still soft food, right?"

Mitchell actually paused and glanced at Castle for _permission_, but her husband didn't seem to notice. Kate reached out and grabbed a banana still attached to the bunch, shook it.

"Help me?" she asked sweetly.

Castle knew better and he darted his gaze to her, then turned his head for a quick look at Mitchell. "Better do as she says. That was not her nice voice."

Mitch laughed but pulled off a banana for her, even whipcracked it to break the stem for her. She took it from him eagerly, suddenly ravenous, and pushed her thumbs into the split, made it wider, peeled open her banana.

She felt good. Tired - she was resigned to a persistent lethargy - but she felt normal again. Not dying, not crashing, not struggling to force her heart to keep beating, not drowning in a darkness that wanted to hold her under.

Just - beaten up. Bruised inside and out. Trampled and easily-

"Eat your banana, for fuck's sake," Mitchell muttered. "Don't make _love_ to it. You're gonna make Castle jealous."

She laughed, caught by surprise at the very real grief cracking Mitchell's voice, but she took a nibbling bite of the banana to appease him. And herself.

She caught a glance that Castle threw her way and reminded herself to _go slowly for him_. Take it easy. Castle needed to have his concentration on the road and getting to the drop-off point for Hunt, and not be worried about her.

And Mitchell. When had he last slept? He'd given her and Castle eight hours to fall dark, a secure sleep in between fits of talking, fits of touching, her husband's grief finally drained out of him. But Mitch.

"Mitchell," she said, her voice clipped to give it that edge of authority she so clearly lacked right now. Mitch came to attention in posture if not in true deference to her, and she smiled at him. "Mitch, I'm awake. Castle is driving. You sleep, take this time while you can."

"Hey, I'm awake too," Hunt said then, the first time he'd pushed into their planning and conversation since sometime last night. Whatever riot act Mitch had read him had worked, and he'd played along, though docile - no. She'd never call Hunt that.

He was too male, too much the aggressor, despite the veneer of civilized British charm. She - it wasn't that she didn't trust him, but she understood that his ultimate goals were never going to line up with hers.

In a different universe, she'd have taken him out for drinks and flirted, touched his arm to see if he responded to her command over him. He'd have attempted the same; they'd have matched wits.

But Castle. And the whole world was different, the stakes higher and more vital, more _alive_. Hunt would never have been enough for her while Castle transcended the ache. And now Hunt was mere liability. It was too bad.

"What?" Hunt exploded. "Don't look at me like the snake in the grass. I can do this. I'm not on anyone's side. It's in my best interest to have him caged - and to get off this crazy train the second it pulls into a station I can control."

She nodded. "True. All true. But should that station circle back to _him_-" Black, she meant, and he knew it. "-then I need more than just _you_ at my back, more than only you between him and me."

Castle grunted; he evidently liked her little speech. He wasn't jealous - oh, it was definitely in his nature; he could flare up with it and burn low, smoldering, practically unknown until it made him do something stupid. But not of Hunt. Because Hunt wasn't comparable, wasn't a threat to him, and Castle knew it.

"Mitch," she said, loudly enough that Black could also hear. Not hard to do, with the engine so quiet. "Give me your extra piece. I'm awake. I'll have it. You sleep and I'll be your eyes."

Mitchell's mouth dropped open.

Castle was moving. She jerked her head to protest - thinking he was about to do something dangerous all because she'd given a reasonable suggestion - but he wasn't getting out of his seat. He was lifting his leg and hunching forward, and for a terrible second, she though, _Oh God, please, not him too_.

But Castle hiked up his jeans pant leg and slipped a .38 out of his ankle holster. Without even looking at her, he laid the weapon in her lap, his hand pressing it down and into her thighs.

He flicked a look to the rearview mirror, evidently satisfied. "Mitchell. Sleep. That's an order."

Kate wrapped her hand around the weapon and instantly felt better. Armed, secure, bold.

She turned her gaze to Castle but he didn't offer a word or a look in return.

Trust. He saw she was trying; he was giving her the gun on faith.

So Kate ate her banana with one hand and kept her eyes open and on the backseat.

Black looked back at her, unrelenting, but she was not afraid.

* * *

><p>"Katherine."<p>

"Katherine."

She sucked in a breath and her eyes opened, her gaze directly on John Black all the way in the backseat. He gave her a grave nod, and Kate blinked, realized she had - she had actually fallen asleep.

Passed out, maybe.

She curled an arm into her chest and felt the gun still in her right hand, heavy on her lap.

Black had woken her up.

"Katherine, you need water."

Her mouth opened but her voice was gone. Her mouth was dry and she glanced to Castle whose concentration was intent on the road. He did give her a short look - he had apparently heard Black - and she didn't know what to do.

"Water, Katherine. Eight full glasses a day after the catheter removal."

Kate froze. How did Black know that? How-

"Bottles are in the bag at your feet," Castle said quietly. "I don't remember that specifically, but I only had a crash course with insertion. He's probably right."

Kate shifted to lean forward, surprised when she found the strength for it. But her head was throbbing, her mouth so dry it hurt to breathe. The bag was there, and she struggled with the zipper for too long before she finally got it open. A host of things was packed in tight: water bottles, protein bars, a pair of handcuffs, two or three of Castle's black t-shirts.

She took a water, reaching for it, and the bottle seemed to tumble straight out of her fingers and back into the bag. She blinked and the blood pounded in her head, her vision swam, and the gun pressed hard into her stomach.

Suddenly Castle's hand was there, gripping her arm hard, tugging her back upright and into the seat. She was breathing hard, dizzy, and she had the seriously crazy thought that Black had planned this.

No, no. No, _get it together_. She was just - it was a natural reaction; she was actually dehydrated and she'd eaten only a banana today and yesterday some pudding. She'd forgotten that she couldn't do whatever she wanted, that she had the tendency to go beyond her means without realizing it.

"Drink the water, Katherine."

Her muscles were shaking too bad to actually open the bottle. Castle released her arm and grabbed the water out of her hands, put it between his thighs, snapped the top right off as he drove. Kate couldn't even take it back from him; he had to hand it over to her, reaching across the console.

She sipped slowly. It was only lukewarm but it tasted as clear and refreshing as a mountain stream. Cliched but true. She had to hold herself back from gulping it down; obviously she'd needed the water.

That was twice that Black had nudged her towards the right. Once by calling her name when she'd fallen asleep and then this, the water.

She leaned against the back of the seat and tried not to spill the water, used the uncomfortable position to slow her gulping need. Wouldn't be a good idea to drink the whole thing in one go, not when she'd been out of it this long.

"You doing okay?" Castle murmured.

"Getting there."

"Mitchell's still asleep," he said quietly. "He's been up for about 48, so if you can-"

"I can. I think. I'll go as long as I think I'll be able to stay awake," she admitted.

"Good. Let me know when you need to change shifts."

She angled her head to the side and saw that Hunt was awake as well. His hands were on his knees; he was paying strict attention to everything being said and done, every current in the car. She felt a little sick knowing that Hunt had been the only one who had Castle's back while he drove; his father could have done anything. Cuffed, but she didn't trust that.

Hunt met her eyes, didn't look away, and then - before she could even tell what he meant - Hunt inched his pant leg up.

She blinked, completely confused, and her eyes fell the length of his leg down to his ankle.

Where he had a knife strapped to his calf. She choked on the water and jerked forward, but Castle caught her by the shoulder and gripped, a fistful of her shirt so that she hung in the balance between the two seats.

"Kate," he said slowly. There was a question it.

Hunt's eyes bored into hers, Castle was nudging her back to the seat. She opened her mouth to say something, Hunt blinked, and Castle flicked her earlobe with his finger.

She turned to him, and he shot her a look, a subtle _no_ that had her falling back into her seat.

No?

Holy shit. It was all an act. _All of it_? How long? How long had they been pretending to be at odds with Hunt?

"Drink your water, Kate," Castle said, loud enough to be heard in the back, for sure. "You don't want to get dehydrated, love."

* * *

><p>They stopped in Jülich, a town midway between Cologne and the Belgium border - roughly. Castle parked at the train station and turned in the driver's seat to level Hunt with a look.<p>

"I took you literally," he said. Hunt _had _said he wanted off this crazy train; Castle was willing to give him a new track.

Hunt glanced out of the tinted windows and sighed. "Right. Of course."

"Hunt," Black said quickly.

Mitchell turned and shot him a quelling look, then leaned forward again and opened his own door. He gestured for Hunt to follow and Castle opened his door too, getting out with them. He turned at the last second and pointed at his wife.

"Open your door. Need to see you."

Kate smiled but she did as he asked - well, commanded - and opened her own door. Mitchell caught it and stood in the open arc, Hunt close, and Castle rounded the hood and came over to them.

Like this, they were somewhat blocked by the frame of the all-terrain vehicle, and Castle offered a low hand to Hunt.

He didn't say thank you, but Hunt took it like that; he shook and gave a brief nod, then turned to Mitchell. The two only looked each other over, and then Mitch gave up a small backpack, allowed Hunt to shrug it on his shoulders.

"Hunt," Castle said, ready to kick the guy to the curb no matter the help he'd been. But he felt Kate's knee in his back and turned to her.

She was looking at Hunt; her fingers came to Castle's shirt and fisted, hanging on, and she leaned out. "Hunt."

Like a magnet, the man was drawn to her. Castle stayed planted where he was, a wall between them, and Kate pressed heavily on his shoulder to lean closer to Hunt.

"Thank you," she whispered. Her lips touched Hunt's cheek only inches from Castle's chin. Hunt stood absolutely rooted to the spot for one held-breath second, and then he stumbled backward, cracked his skull on the frame of the open passenger door, rebounded off and into Mitch.

"Fuck," Hunt groaned. "You guys are - dangerous. You're all dangerous. Holy shit, my head is throbbing."

"You'll live," Castle said darkly.

Kate was still pressed against his back, her cheek resting on top of his shoulder now so that he could feel her hair getting caught by his weeks' growth of beard.

Hunt stalked away, the backpack over one shoulder, only the knife they'd taken from Black for a weapon. Hunt dodged parked cars and came to the massive, regal train station, mixed with the early morning commuters to disappear inside.

Kate's forehead came to rest at his neck. "That was honorable," she murmured. "We owe him."

"We are not in his debt," Castle growled out. "You handily repaid it with that kissed-cheek stunt, Mrs. Katherine Castle."

She laughed. Damn, but it felt so good to hear. "Rodgers," she murmured. "It's Rodgers, sweetheart. Do get it right."

He turned his head and caught the smile on her lips with his mouth, a little nip, and she was even giggling as he nudged her back into the passenger seat. Suddenly a sober look came over her and she stared at him.

"We did the right thing. Right?"

He sighed. "We did the only thing, Beckett. Get in. We're headed to Cologne."

* * *

><p>Castle had done his research but it was Mitchell's contacts that let them into a privately owned apartment in Cologne's Old Town. A brick-paved alley with no space required them to double park and unload the equipment, plus John Black, and finally Beckett. Castle carried her through the building's narrow security door and up the cramped flight of stairs, but because of the tight confines, her legs were wrapped around his waist and her arms at his neck rather than wedding style.<p>

It was - there was friction. And her mouth breathing at his neck. And-

He was trying. He really was.

She didn't _seem_ to notice, but not much in that department ever got past Kate. He hoped she would just sleep today, forget about it, give them all twenty-four hours to recover. She was scheduled to get saline today, for the electrolytes, and then tomorrow morning another infusion of immunities Mitchell had brought.

From James. From their son whom they had left in New York last Thursday, nearly seven days ago, their six month old son who never seemed to be sad but who definitely was a serious little thing, and they'd left him.

"You smell good," she mumbled at his neck.

Castle sighed, let go the things he couldn't - absolutely couldn't - change. This, his wife wrapped around him, this he could change, one way or another, by persuasion or force of will, and he'd do what he could where he could. And know that Jim would do the same for Castle's son as Castle was doing for Jim's daughter. A matter of faith.

Mitchell opened the door ahead of them to a cramped, one-bedroom apartment. The windows were wide but functional, and every single one was open to the cool April air, fog shrouding the buildings across the street.

"Where'd you put Black?" he asked Mitch.

"In the bedroom. I figured we needed a place to keep him - and keep him out of our daily hub - so he gets the master. I did, however, rearrange the furniture." Mitchell swept his hand across the room and Castle realized then that what he'd thought was simply a studio apartment was in fact the living room.

Mitch had dragged the full bed into the space where, presumably, a couch had been, shoving aside a modern, white Ikea table for space. A floor lamp was on, illuminating an open floor plan that led directly to the kitchen.

"So Black has a couch in there?"

"Hideaway, so he should be fine. You want to put her down?"

Castle was surprised that she hadn't already nudged him to move, but when he stepped towards the bed, he realized she had fallen asleep. She didn't even stir when he lowered her to the mattress, unwound her locked legs from his waist, and tugged the covers up around her shoulders. He brushed the hair back from her face and sank down beside her. "The medical equipment?"

"Heart monitor is at your feet," Mitchell said. "The saline and IV stuff is just under the bed. Might want to think about hiding this stuff somewhere. In case Black figures out a way to slip his bonds and go skulking in the night."

"And poisons her?" Castle rasped, lifting weary eyes to his friend. Agent, friend, brother-in-arms. Eastman had been his partner, his father figure even though only ten years older than himself, and with his death, Castle had lost something he hadn't expected to find again. But Mitchell was solid. Mitchell had blood oath with Castle, in so many ways, and he could depend on Mitch.

"Or fuck with the saline, take the needles, contaminate the kids'-"

"I got it," Castle muttered. "Thanks for thinking ahead. My whole - feels like everything has narrowed down to this core focus: just Kate. I can't even think unless it somehow loops right back to her."

Mitch landed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Man, that's how it's supposed to be. You do what has to be done to save her life, and I'll cover your backs. John Black is in cuffs that are clamped to the radiator on the choke chain, so he won't be slipping those any time soon. I still don't plan on underestimating him."

"He said something in the car. You were asleep. I don't know why. He called her name and woke her up. I was gonna let her sleep, knowing that Hunt had it covered."

"Smart move. With Hunt."

"He's halfway in love with her," Castle snorted. "Just took a little extra inducement. He doesn't respond to threats, so I figured, why the hell not?"

"You tell her to kiss him?"

Castle gave Mitch a dark look.

"Ha," Mitch crowed, sinking down to the stark red chair that had survived his rearranging. "She's just that smart."

"Hunt showed her that he was armed and it surprised her. I'm sure her mind was racing the whole rest of the drive. But Hunt-" Castle stopped, casting a long glance to the door behind which his father was must lay. He wouldn't say it out loud, the plan Hunt promised to put into action.

"I know," Mitch said, shrugging. "I heard the tail end. I can figure it out. That's only smart."

Castle nodded quickly, grateful. Grateful even for Hunt, who had given Castle the buffer between himself and his father that he'd so desperately needed. And maybe Black had seen that, known it for what it was, and had engineered Hunt's arrival for that very purpose, but there was still a measure of confidence in knowing that Hunt was independent. He'd play the game for money and the rush, but he wouldn't be stupid. He was too much like Castle for that.

Hunt would set up in Cologne for the next few days, hang around until the courier arrived with the package from New York, and then Hunt would bring it to Mitch.

In no way was Castle relying on Black for their resources. Not now.

Castle leaned over and grabbed the bag of medical equipment. "I'm going to plug in the heart monitor and set the alarm on it. If it goes off, believe me, you'll hear it. We both need some sleep. Take shifts?"

Mitch nodded, finally holstering his weapon now that the briefing was over. "I'll go first. I got a nap in the car. You sleep, and maybe you'll match her schedule."

He hoped not. Now that he was super, and the stabilizers were doing their jobs in his system, he didn't need as much sleep as Mitch seemed to think. "I don't think so, Mitch. You sleep, get a full eight hours. I've had mine, thanks to you. Plus I need to get the saline going later tonight. Sleeping bags are down in the car."

Mitchell gave him a thoughtful look and then nodded. "I'll find a spot to leave the car, and then I'll hike back here with a couple sleeping bags. Just try to keep it down, will ya? I don't wanna hear you two pining for each other while I'm trying to sleep."

Castle's smile was brief, but it was there. It meant something. "Dismissed, soldier."

Mitch saluted sarcastically and headed for the door, leaving Castle alone.

The fog had thickened outside and now began to curl through the windows and linger in the room. Wispy, damp, cool, almost childlike. Castle pulled the blanket up a little higher over Kate and started to work on the heart monitor.

One thing at a time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Close Encounters 23**

* * *

><p>Mitchell came back and dumped two sleeping bags on the floor beside the interior wall, sank down, and fell asleep before Castle could ask him another word. The sudden burst of movement had collapsed into a suffocating silence and now Castle was alone on first watch.<p>

He stood up from the red chair and moved to the windows, closing the half nearer to Kate and leaving open the ones on Mitchell's side of things. The man hadn't zipped up in the sleeping bag, but those insulated bags could still get hot.

Castle locked the two windows carefully, then moved to the doors in the center of the room and stepped out onto the balcony, gazing into the just-dawning sky. The fog still clung, but it seemed to be thinning, and Castle could see the buildings across the narrow alley. All brick, flat-faced, but with these same windows - decorative with complicated inside shutters, thick-paned glass.

It was a beautiful place, charming and old world, and Kate would love it. If she got a chance to see it. If she even got the opportunity to stand up and walk out onto the balcony under her own power, she would love to breathe this place in. Experience it.

But it wasn't home.

After six days of struggling and battling to keep her alive, they hadn't gotten even an inch closer to going home. Cologne was gorgeous, but John Black was in the next room and Mitchell was running himself ragged just to get them supplies and safety.

Castle kept making her these promises that he had no _right_ to make her. _I'll get you home, you're going to be fine_. He was used to declaring martial law on the universe, and it always went exactly as he intended it to go, but lately the universe had begun to retaliate.

The universe didn't appreciate Castle dictating terms. The universe was going to fuck him over for years of dumb luck, altered genes, and optimistic bluster.

Well, too fucking bad, because Castle was taking this one too, claiming victory. He was demanding it. Kate Beckett would live, even if Castle had to brutalize the universe to get her home.

Stark and bleak as it was, he saw his deficiencies. He knew the man he was, what his father's program had carved out of him, these necessary but faulty pieces, but he couldn't do anything more than he was already doing.

He'd purged his grief last night, humiliating and awful as it had been. Every time Kate passed out from exhaustion on this trip, yeah, the grief bubbled up again. But he absolutely couldn't forget - not even for a moment - what they were to each other. Even if he wasn't the man he was supposed to be, he was the man she'd chosen. He was going to work fiercely to be worthy of it - of them.

Maybe he'd never be more than he'd been built to be. Maybe he couldn't be anything more than a broken machine. Fine. He could live with it so long as he had her. He didn't care; just call him a sentient machine and give him her. Give him Kate Beckett and he'd strive all of his damn life to be more, even knowing he was built to fail.

His father's program had crushed the humanity right out of him, but Kate had brought him life. Whatever life it was, it was something. And he wanted it.

Castle came in off the balcony and shut the French doors, locking them as he felt the last of the fog brush his skin. And then he turned and made for the lone bedroom, and a talk with his father.

* * *

><p>Black was standing at the window of the bedroom - a window that was also a balcony - when Castle came inside.<p>

Well, that wasn't entirely true. The window was just out of the reach of a chained Black, which held a wealth of symbolic significance, and Castle didn't doubt that Mitchell had done it on purpose. A look at freedom but no touch of it. Mitchell could be passive aggressive like that.

"Black," he said. His father didn't turn to him, but he definitely knew Castle was there. "You want to know what happens next or you want to be in the dark for the rest of our time here?"

Black's shoulders came up and then smoothly back down again. When he turned, his face was composed with more control and skill than Castle had previously seen - which only meant that Black could do it, and whatever lapses he'd had before had been for show.

Fine. Hunt had claimed that they had looked at him like a snake in the grass. But Hunt wasn't the snake. Here was their biggest deceiver. Here was the man who whispered lies into their ears and insinuated his agenda into their dreams.

"Well then, Richard. What is the rest of the plan? Since your plan has been so wildly successful."

"I don't even know what that's supposed to mean," Castle muttered, drawing a hand down his face. "I know you've talked to Kate. She's told me. Maybe not word-for-word, but you've made her our go-between. I'm here to tell you - that won't work."

"It is already working," Black smirked. He gave a little laugh after it, like he'd had no sleep and was plunging off the edge. It sounded somewhat staged, for effect.

Might be true, might not be. Castle wasn't going to take anything at face value. "I don't think you get the situation here."

"Richard, you're here, are you not? It's already working. I poke her, you come out like the proverbial bear. It never fails."

"So then we have this unfortunate detente, and you get to email my wife telling her she has to come to France for a meet of your choosing? You get the power to pull strings and make us dance? No. No, that's not how this goes."

"Oh, Richard. You have so much to learn," Black said, shaking his head. "She gets it. She understands this game far better than you do. It's mutually assured destruction. And it works. Here you are. Talking to me. Probably without even talking to her about it first. I fuck with her and you come fuck with me. Crass but true."

Castle's body flared violently with rage, but he was super, he was still riding high on the serum and the stabilizers working in concert, and it kept him cool. It dampened his emotional irrationality, and it kept him in control.

He stayed very still and he looked past his father to the window, to the fog burning off outside.

There was truth in these things. Poke the bear's wife and the bear comes out to deal - but that was exactly the reaction Black was going for. The only option would be to leave Kate to deal with Black alone, never coming out to meet him, and that wasn't - at all - a real option.

Castle coming when Black called _her_ name was what kept Kate alive. If he didn't come, Black would remove the obstacle standing between him and his son - Kate Beckett.

But Castle could work that to his own advantage as well. He could.

He just needed to sit down and figure out a way, form a strategy, and that was something he usually did with Kate. So he'd keep cool for now, he'd chill the fuck out, and he'd come back with a battle plan when Kate was able.

Until then. "We stay here," Castle answered. "And you with us, just like this. If an emergency arises with Kate, you have enough length of chain to the door and you will be able to see into the living room to her. You'll advise me from that position. But I don't see needing you. Not now. She's recovering."

Castle studied his father's reaction, but he detected no trace of apprehension. He was very good, though, had been good since before Castle had been born. If Black didn't want Castle to know what he thought of the plan, he wouldn't know.

"We're keeping you for 'just in case'. You'll get food and water. You talk to Mitchell when you need something - neither I nor Kate will have contact with you unless I require it. When Kate can travel again, we leave you here. The apartment caretakers will be informed and they will have instructions to call the police and inform of your whereabouts within 48 hours of our leaving."

"Just like that," Black said, voice dripping with contempt. "You'd give me over, let the Collective-"

"Don't be stupid. You'll be given means to free yourself before those 48 hours are up, but should you not make that window of time... honestly, I don't really care."

"You should. What happens to me if Interpol takes custody? Interpol is inundated with Collective men."

"I don't know," Castle sighed. "You'll figure it out, I'm sure."

"Katherine won't-"

"What?" Castle insisted. "Kate won't what? Let me? Kate won't have the energy to protest. She's basically letting me do what I want right now because I'm fucking falling apart and she sees that if I can control _something_ then it keeps me together. So I'll get to do what I want with you, especially if I give you a head's start. You know she's all about it being fair. It appeases her sense of justice."

Black stared, apparently taken aback. Like Black hadn't been his damned _father_ for all these years, training Castle to be exactly this.

"If you can do it, if you can fuck around and play games," Castle hissed. "Then you - of all people - shouldn't be surprised that I can do it too. I learned manipulation from the master. So don't fuck with me - you'll find I'm fucking with you too."

Black's lips thinned. "A 48 hour head start while you two - three, I suppose, though four isn't out of the question either, knowing Hunt. Your merry band of thieves will sneak over the border or hop a plane or board a train and eventually go home. Is that it?"

"This isn't Dr Seuss," he mused. James had those books in his low shelf under the window, just beside the baby mirror. He liked to be read to at night, usually _Hop on Pop_ or _Go, Dog, Go_; Castle wondered if Jim knew that. He couldn't remember if he'd told her father about those books, and it wasn't like James could ask for them.

"I don't understand your reference," Black intoned. "But you do realize you're leaving a trail a mile wide here. Diane Jolin - the shooting and kidnapping in the park. The stolen vehicles. The-"

"This is what you've left me with," he muttered. "It's been a clusterfuck from the beginning and it started with you."

"No. I always said leave no trace behind, Richard. There's a damn good reason for it. You want the Collective to follow you all the way home? To that cozy family scene?"

"Leave no trace behind meant killing witnesses and destroying damning evidence. Leave no trace meant never making an impact, never having relationships, never _caring._ Leave no trace meant no trace _inside_ either - no human feeling, no sympathy, no conscience."

"There's a _reason_-"

"It's a bogus reason," he shouted. Immediately his training kicked in and he clenched his teeth, backed up, caught his breath. This wasn't the place or the time, and Kate was asleep in the living room and absolutely needed to stay that way. For as long as she could rest.

"It's this very reason right here," Black said softly. His voice was whisper quiet but that only demanded a keener attention; he was quite brilliant at manipulation. "This is the reason, Richard. Look at what you've done. You've been corrupted to your core, son. See the ripples it's had? See the effects? Your wife is dying, you've made your son motherless - and in doing that, also made him fatherless - because you won't be able to exorcise that woman even in death. You'll binge on vengeance, leave him without a father, all because your _emotions_ have been allowed to rule."

At any point in his father's soft, quiet speech, he should have spoken up. He should have defended them, defended himself, negated those accusations.

But his throat was closed, the words weren't there.

Instead, Castle turned and left the room, shutting the door after him, and he stood alone in the middle of the living room, trying to breathe past the knot in his windpipe.

_You've made your son motherless._

* * *

><p>Kate watched Castle open the port and hook the IV line into her arm again. She thought she was imagining the burn when the fluid began to gradually snake its way into her veins, but that didn't mean it was pleasant either.<p>

"You okay?" he murmured.

"I'm good," she got out. "Feels weird."

"This is a chelation day," he apologized.

"So let's get our plan straight before it knocks me out," she muttered, trying to sit up. "Help me to the chair?"

"Kate-"

"I'm tired of lying down. Just hook the IV bag on the floor lamp." She waved her free arm towards the darkened light and he sighed, but he did as she asked.

Mitchell cleared his throat and Kate glanced at him; he softly shook his head at her, a reminder that she needed to ease up. It stung.

Kate caught Castle's hand as he reached in to help her up, and his weary eyes came to meet hers. "Thank you," she said softly. "The chelation makes me restless. Feels like - things under my skin."

His face blanched - there was a moment of horror - and then he was in control again, shifting to help her to her feet. "I understand," he said. "But let me know when you get dizzy."

"I will," she promised. And she would.

Castle helped her to the red chair, even lifted her legs so that she could draw her feet up, prop her chin on knees. He stroked a hand through her hair in a thoughtless gesture of love, and she turned, caught his palm with a kiss.

He smiled back and sank down to the bed she'd just escaped. Mitch came in and sat beside him, a little distance, both of them on the edge of the mattress.

"So what's the plan?" she said, starting things off. She had to push her hair back behind her ear again, the short locks skimming her neck and falling into her face with her head at this angle. She couldn't make it stay; she had to give up.

"The plan is to wait here for the chelation and Threkeld's concoction to do its job," Castle began. "Mitochondria byproducts."

She blinked. "What?"

His lips quirked. "That's what they call it. Mitochondria byproducts in the blood do the repairing of damage and cleaning up of the regimen's - uh, well, Logan kind of made it sound like waste."

"Waste?" she muttered, wrinkling her nose. "The regimen's _waste_."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Threkeld said it was like a new class of immunization. It's like making antibodies in one person and giving them to another, bypassing your immune system entirely. Never even turning it on."

Kate could somewhat understand, in theory, what it was. When they got home, she'd sit down with Threkeld and have him _make_ her understand. It sounded rather a lot like magic, which was ridiculous. It was just science that had - for a while now - gone over their heads. They had to get a handle on it.

"Black is the one who is up on all this," she said finally. "He's had decades, Castle."

"You've said that."

"It's obvious that there are things he hasn't even begun to tell us. This chelation therapy - advanced therapy, with dialysis thrown in for good measure. Whatever it is, he used it twenty years ago on those guys who served with you."

"They weren't _with_ me. They were-" Castle stopped, regret swimming up in his eyes and then drowning. Coonan. She knew, they both knew. But there was nothing to be done.

"Castle," she sighed.

He shook his head. "Well. Anyway. Black told me that Coonan was the only one to survive. And that - scared the shit out of me, leaving your life to that, still scares me. So I went to Threkeld and Boyd and Logan and I told them to do whatever it took to get me - get you - an alternate solution. And this was it."

"I'm not second-guessing you," she said softly. "It's not like that reassures me either. Coonan became a contract killer, Castle, and he - you know what he did." She took a deep breath and struggled to keep her head up. "I'm only trying to say that Black has had a huge head start on us. Huge. Decades of work. And all of it centered around making you the best you could be."

Castle rubbed a hand over his jaw, stubbled with growth so that his face seemed shadowed. "I know. You're always arguing to let him live. Well, you were right. Is that what you want to hear? If he hadn't been here, you'd have been dead."

Goose bumps raced across her arms. She glanced to Mitch but he was being carefully quiet. "I guess, more than that, Rick, what I'm saying is I think - I think we should unchain him."

Mitchell gaped at her.

She expected Castle to absolutely lose it, but instead he just seemed to shrink. His shoulders hunched, his elbows came to his knees and he stared at the ground, breathing hard.

"It's all a matter of perception, Castle," she said quickly. "He _has_ to think I'm on his side. That I've got a measure of control over you - even to the point that I'd convince you to let him have some freedom."

Castle pressed his thumb and forefinger into his closed eyes, still silent.

"That's the very last thing he'd expect you to do willingly," she went on. "He thinks he can drive a wedge between us, using me to get to you. But we know better, Castle. Don't we? We know better. I don't control-"

Castle laughed, his head coming up. "Babe, you _do_ control me. Look at us. I want you in this damn bed, not sitting up in a chair. And I'm actually considering letting the damn man go free. Fucking hell, you're too weak to stand up, and yet somehow you do exactly what you want."

She flinched.

Castle sighed. "That's not how I meant it, Kate."

She shifted her eyes to the windows, the raining sky beyond. "I'm not looking to control you."

"It's just love," he muttered. "It's not - not like that. But you know what he said in there? That you knew how to play this game. And fuck, he's right. You really do."

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, her chest aching.

"I don't know," he answered. "It's keeping us alive, though. So - what's the game plan, Kate? You tell me. Tell us - me and Mitch will do whatever it is you think we ought to do. Within some reason."

She swallowed, not sure she wanted carte blanche on this. "If it - if it looks like I can control you, if he sees that you're willing to go against your better judgment just because I said so, then that - that keeps me safe."

Castle blinked. "Safe? With him loose, Kate, you're not safe."

"But I am. Protected by the very fact that I can - summon you up."

Castle rubbed the top of his head, hand scraping roughly through his hair.

Mitchell spoke up. "You're not actually thinking about doing that, are you?" He turned to Castle, completely ignoring her. "Castle. Don't be a fucking idiot. You let him loose and you are asking to be knifed in your bed."

"No," Castle said and Kate answered, "He wouldn't."

Their eyes met. They knew _Castle_ was safe. But maybe not Mitchell. Mitchell would be an inconvenient obstacle.

"He should leave," she whispered, her heart already fluttering like a scared bird. She had to clench her fists against the look on Castle's face. The desolation.

"Mitch. She's right. You have to leave us," Castle said finally. "You wouldn't be safe. I can't guarantee your life once we let him go. But Kate and I - she's right. She's actually safer if he thinks he can get to me with her."

"No," Mitchell hissed. "I am _not_ leaving."

"You can stay in Cologne, but not here in the apartment. Let him think you're gone completely. We'll make it sound like it's Kate's idea, like she sent you away because you're so antagonistic or something."

"She _is_ sending me away. I _am fucking antagonistic._"

Kate felt the smile threatening despite Mitchell's fury, buried it against her knees. She knew Castle would deal with this, make Mitchell see how this worked. Black was _not_ to be trusted, but the one thing she knew - he was obsessed with Castle. Castle was safe, though Black wouldn't hesitate to kidnap him if he could.

She thought, though, that Black had learned his lesson about that. Castle couldn't be separated from her, and Black had seen that up close and personal with Kate's failing health, with her almost dying. So his attention had turned to her, completely and without mercy, and that _would_ keep her safe.

Mostly safe. She couldn't be certain, but they had some assurance that the more they made it look like Kate was the one in charge here, the more Black needed her.

She couldn't forget. Black had saved her life. Was saving her life - even still. Black thought he needed her alive to win out in the end, as crazy as that sounded.

And yes, they had the added gift from Threkeld, but Black didn't know that. Black thought _he _was their only resource.

Give Black some freedom to move, give him some of that status he craved when it came to Castle, and she had an idea that they could predict him. It would be safer, in the end, for all of them if Black thought things were going his way.

Don't back him into a corner. That was the game plan. Just don't back him into a corner, don't create a situation that forced Black to use deadly force to escape.

Like being chained in the room next door, dismissed and degraded by his own son.

* * *

><p>The fight they orchestrated in the living room was loud and not entirely untrue; it ended with Castle 'forcing' Mitchell to the door and ordering him home.<p>

He knew Black had been listening.

Kate had been too, and she gave him a deeply disturbed look when he came to her at the chair. _Did we do the right thing_?

He had no idea anymore.

Castle scooped her up into his arms, ignoring her movements towards standing on her own, and he carried her to the bed again. When she settled into it, she didn't make a noise of complaint, merely lowered her head to the pillow and closed her eyes.

She looked so _brittle_. The chelation did that to her, though it was supposedly for the good. He'd done a lot of research in those cold, dark hours when they'd first started this, and it seemed legitimate, but seeing her sucked dry by the infusions made him question it.

Doubt. He was plagued by doubts. He didn't have any answers.

"Go," she murmured. Eyes were still closed, but she flicked a finger over his wrist in encouragement.

Castle leaned in over her and kissed her temple. "Sleep. You sleep, Kate. I'll do the rest."

Her body seemed to sink into the mattress, so he stood, headed for the bedroom. He had to detour to the kitchen to scoop up the keys to the chain, and he took those to the door. When he opened up the bedroom, Black was standing close to the window.

Castle ignored him, moved instead to the radiator where the chain was locked. He kept his body perpendicular to his father so he could still see the man, and then he dropped one knee and fit the key into the lock.

"What are you doing?" Black said in a low voice.

"What does it look like?" he snarled. It was a show, but it also wasn't. He was sick with it, but Kate was right - only way to truly be safe with this man. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Exactly what they were doing.

"You're unlocking the cuffs?" Black said, suspicion in his voice. "And I heard you throw out Mitchell."

"Mitchell wanted to fucking slit your throat," Castle growled. "And I just might do it anyway if you don't shut the hell up."

Black eyed him.

Castle turned the key and the attached padlock popped open, freeing the chain. Black didn't move, and Castle unthreaded the chain from the radiator, realizing how lucky they were. There were signs of tampering on the radiator, places where it looked like Black had been going at it. His father could have done real damage in here, with access to the radiator, could have worked a connection free and angled a pipe with all its steam, could have funneled water to a light switch-

But instead of sabotage, they were redirecting Black's energies to this new development.

Kate was right. Kate was usually right when it came to playing Black's twisted game.

Castle stood up and came to his father, yanked the chain out from between the links of the handcuffs. "And no. I'm not unlocking the cuffs. Not yet. This is a conditioned release. You do well - you act smart - then you get the cuffs removed. Kate - she's the only one I'd do this for, you understand me?"

Black didn't answer, only stared at him.

Unchained. Step one. Now for step two. "The chelation makes her - it's not good. I don't think it's working. It's just making her worse."

Black's face cleared, that _ah, now I understand_ look in his eyes. "I see."

"You need to check her blood," he said. "You need to make damn sure this is doing the job, because it looks like it's fucking killing her."

Black nodded. "I will. Take a sample; we'll look at it. We'll do that right now, Richard."

Castle turned his back on his father and heard the man following him out the door. It made the hairs rise on the back of his neck, but so far the plan was working exactly as Kate had said it would.

Cooperation from Black. _Make him see what he wants to see_.

He hoped to hell this worked.


	9. Chapter 9

**Close Encounters 23**

* * *

><p>Kate grunted and came awake when Castle drew her blood. She blinked to push sleep away, struggled for a moment when she couldn't orient, and then she stopped, understanding again.<p>

Just the plan. They were following the plan.

Black was standing there beside the bed, watching. He gave her a long look. "How do you feel, Katherine?"

She swallowed, tried to give that some thought, tried to figure out what was the best thing to tell Black. Truth or not? "I feel - tired. Chelation makes me tired."

He nodded. Seemed to be what he'd expected.

"I feel better without it," she kept going. She didn't say _why_, that it was her son's own mitochondrial extraction that was reviving her. "I feel better when we're not doing the chelation."

Black regarded her sagely. "Well, you know that's because the very point of chelation is to strip minerals out of your body. It's going to get the good as well as the bad, Katherine. That won't feel good."

"But it feels really bad," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"I know," Black said. "Much like chemotherapy, sometimes the cure is as bad as the condition."

Castle grunted, and she opened her eyes - she could tell he didn't appreciate that kind of parallel. She held his gaze, made him back down with a quelling look. They had to sell this, make Black think Castle was that close to desperation that he'd do whatever it took to keep Black here to save Kate.

It kept her safe; it kept them all safe.

"All right," Black said then, taking the vial of her blood. He kept saying he needed half a liter for these tests - nearly a whole bag - but Castle always refused. "I'll get right on this, start the machine. We'll see what's going on, Katherine."

Castle gave her a look, disdain and arrogance that really didn't look good on him, even if it was directed at his father. She caught his fingers, wincing when the gauze at her elbow folded over with her movement. "Don't," she murmured to him.

_Don't blow our cover_.

His face reformed; he nodded and leaned in, kissed her forehead. "Anything for you, Kate. Even this."

She felt her lips curling into a smile, scratched at his six-day beard. "You feel good," she murmured. "Stay right here. Make him think I'm dying."

"That's not funny," he growled at her. His cheek brushed roughly against hers.

"It's only a ruse," she promised. She wasn't dying now; she couldn't. She absolutely couldn't. They had years and years and they had a son who was in New York who hadn't even really gotten to know them.

"It better be a ruse," he muttered. "Holding you to that, Kate."

"Hold away," she said, smiling against his stubbled cheek. "Promise me you won't shave when we get home?"

"Won't?" he grunted. "Why not?"

"I like it. And I can't exactly - um - do anything about it right now."

"You can't do-" Castle choked off, burying the laugh into her shoulder as he crouched over her at the bed. "You absolutely are forbidden from being dirty, Kate Rodgers."

She grinned, tried to keep it from lighting up the whole room and so giving them away. "Forbidden? That sounds rather-"

"If you say naughty, I'm going to lose it."

She ached trying to hold in the laughter. But at least the blood machine was already humming, drowning out their words, masking their familiarity, their laughter. She stroked the back of his neck with her fingers and angled his head so that his cheek was against hers once more.

"You like that?" he murmured, rubbing his jaw against hers now. A shiver ran through her and he laughed, sounding so pleased with himself.

She scratched at his roughened cheeks. "Go watch him," she said. "See what he says about it."

They'd already done the tests themselves, right before Mitchell had left. They _knew_ what the bloodwork was supposed to say.

Castle let out a little sigh of resignation and brushed a kiss to that spot below her ear, just 'happening' to scrape his scruff against her as well. She smiled at him as he stood up, towering above her - why was it that Castle always looked so damn dominating when she was flat on her back?

Castle moved to the station they had set up near the kitchen bar. The counter stretched out into the open space, neatly bisecting it, and two stools had been pulled up. Black sat on one, adjusting the screen's display on the machine.

It only took minutes; it was a newer model that Mitchell had procured for them, dumping all their stolen medical equipment before they had crossed the border.

Kate shifted onto her side, being careful of the IV still in her arm; she had another few hours like this, and she really _was_ exhausted, despite having felt marginally better before now. She nudged her cheek into the pillow and watched the two of them at the counter, waiting.

She could _see_ the moment that Black comprehended the results.

It wasn't like he stiffened up - no, Black never allowed his body to tell on him. It was just the so-very-smooth way he lifted his head and looked to Castle.

"Well. Well," he said again, slowly. "Her potassium levels are - quite high."

Fuck yeah, they were, she thought. They were _supposed_ to be high - just so she could survive the damn chelation. At least, that was their theory. Only thing that made sense. The PK pump which controlled how much water was allowed in her cells was apparently vital to this whole process.

"Which isn't good," Black continued. "That looks very close to toxicity to me. We'll see what the chelation can do for her."

Black gave Castle a sober look, as if he had bad news. He put his hand on Castle's shoulder.

"Son. I just don't know. This kind of level... see for yourself. See this spike here? That's the potassium. We're going to have to keep a close eye on that."

Kate buried her smile into the pillow. A close eye? Yeah, look at that. Black was so not happy that she was recovering. He was lying so fast that it didn't even _look_ sincere.

But Castle grimaced and nodded, selling it, and Kate felt the exhaustion washing over her.

She wished Logan and Threkeld had decided she could stop the chelation too. But they thought it was actually helping.

Even as the darkness began to steal over her, she was confident this time.

Confident she would wake up again.

* * *

><p>She missed her son.<p>

She was aware enough now, strong enough, to find a pattern to the hours, and for those hours to shape slowly into night or day, and then for those periods of light and dark to mean days of the week.

She was aware and she took note of them carefully, storing the hours in her head as if they were all debit transactions in the bank of her relationship to her son. Her connection.

She needed him. He touched something in her that was innocent, and unconditional, and Castle was there too, already there, but Castle was everything else as well, and all-consuming, while her connection with James was easy and beautiful and familiar.

Strange, but she'd begun to think of her family as a presence, as a force inside her, each with their own light in the dark cosmos of her soul. James was there, he was always warmth in her heart, but the light was dim and she needed it back, strong, steady.

It wasn't his fault she was stuck halfway across the world and he was forgetting her. It wasn't his fault she was so good at keeping things in their neat boxes.

She was an expert at building breakwalls between the powerful currents of her emotional ocean, damming up the floods, channeling the anger or love or strength into the places where she needed them to go. But Castle - he was uncontained, unwilling to be walled off - from the very beginning. She was finding that James had crept into that same category through stealthier means, diffusing across her psyche until he filled all the cracks in her walls, support instead of tidal-wave-destruction.

Castle was still a tsunami; he always would be. But she craved it, needed it, being washed clean by the way he loved.

James was everything else and she needed her son, needed to see him, now more than ever with his blood's chemistry mixing with her own.

She shifted slowly in the red chair and drew a knee up to her chest, frowning when she realized she'd have to get up and go to the bathroom again - eight bottles of water a day was ridiculous - but she didn't move just yet.

Sitting here put her in Castle's line of sight the moment the door opened and he came back inside, his hair windblown and his eyes as violently blue as the storm-sky outside.

"Beckett," he said, closing the door and locking it. He had a scowl on his face, which either meant his meet with Mitchell hadn't happened or his frustration with her was back at fever pitch. Black was on the blood machine at the bar stool pulled up to the counter, and he tossed Castle a quick look as if to say, _don't blame me._

"I feel good," she told him. "Better today than yesterday." She hadn't wanted to be lying down with Black in here, alone. She'd told Castle to go ahead, but she wasn't so confident that she wanted to be flat on her back alone with him.

She'd had the last of James's infusions today - this morning before Castle had left - and maybe it was all in her head, maybe so, but she thought it was working. Of course the chelation therapy was going to make her feel run over tomorrow, so she was worried about what happened next.

No more vials of the infusion. She was dreading the next few days.

"Why are you up?" he asked. "It's four in the morning."

It was? She'd thought four in the afternoon; her circadian rhythms were off then, still off. She'd checked her phone for the time, but apparently the a.m. part hadn't registered. She should set the clock to military time so she'd always know. Damn it. She was already starting off on a bad foot with him then, not even knowing how early it was.

"But I feel awake," she told him. "And I had some food, drank water. I wanted to get out of the bed, starting to hurt lying down."

Castle relented, just like that, his frustration melting away into a kind of little-boy pleading as he came to her in the chair. She lifted her hand to him and he took it, but he sank to her feet and leaned his shoulder against the leg of the chair.

She saw he had a clear line of sight to his father though.

"Only for a while, Kate. You were - bad yesterday."

"I know. I felt bad," she murmured. Her fingers slipped through his hair and combed it at his ears where it was getting shaggy. He leaned into her touch and she knew there was no time like now. "But not today. Better today. Can we video chat with my dad?"

"Is that why you got up early?" he murmured.

She grimaced; she hadn't even considered the time difference. If it really _had_ been four in the afternoon, it would have been morning there, an idea time to see James. But four in the morning her time meant late evening for her father, who might have already put James to bed.

"I want to call and let him see my face," she said. "Let him believe it's working. And - and James..."

Castle stiffened and sat up, glanced at her, but he also cast a swift look towards his father, wary. "I want to - see him." His eyes came back to her, troubled. "But."

"I don't - even care," she admitted. "I just want to see him."

Castle let out a huge breath, relief washing through him like a deluge, his forehead bowing briefly to her clasped hands. "Me too, me too," he incanted. "I want to see him."

She bit the inside of her cheek, wishing she'd brought it up sooner. In her darkest moments, she'd been afraid he was too angry, too grieved to want to to see his son. When she was smarter about it, she thought maybe he was just being protective, not wanting Black to know a thing about James. "Castle, call my dad."

At that, he lifted his head, determination striking his features, and he pulled out his phone. Castle looked better than he had in days.

She was pretty sure she did too.

She would get to see her son.

* * *

><p>Castle carried his wife out to the balcony and they sat in the hard iron chairs for the call. The morning light showed her up, but it also highlighted the curl of her hair around her face and the life in her eyes.<p>

Jim would know she'd been sick, but the image of recovery was painted in broad, forgiving strokes.

When the call went through and connected, the screen jostled as Kate reached for it, her fingers brushing James's face. The boy was still up; Jim hadn't put him to bed yet. Castle pushed in close so that they could both be seen, though more importantly, so that he could hold her up if she needed the support. The phone wobbled against the ceramic pot they'd propped it up against, but it held.

"Katie, Rick, glad to see your faces," Jim said roughly. His eyes looked strained, but James seemed content to chew on a green rubber frog in his grandfather's lap.

"Good to see you too, Dad," Kate answered.

James dropped his toy, staring at the screen, and then he lunged for it, hands at the laptop before Jim could wrestle him back. The boy made love to the screen, mouth and teeth and tongue, and Kate was laughing, laughing so hard that Castle had to tighten his hold on her.

"Hey, baby," she said, over and over. "Hey, James. Let Papa hold you. Don't eat the screen."

"He's doing 'kisses', sorry," Jim said, angling the laptop again so they could see him. He held James against his chest in a bear hold, but James was obviously enthralled by the picture of his parents that moved and talked to him.

"Kisses?" Kate said.

"Yeah, here. James. Hey, James. Kisses. Kiss-" And then Jim got an open mouthed slobber on his chin where James came in. The boy pulled back looking absolutely so proud.

"Oh, that's-" Kate's voice hitched and Castle reached across to grip her upper arm, hanging on to her. She smiled at him, then back to the phone. "James. Were you giving us kisses?"

James broke out into a babble, squirming hard in his grandfather's arms, obviously trying to reach them. Jim clamped another arm around him and spoke into his ear, soothing him in some quiet way that they didn't even know.

They didn't even know.

Kate shifted and Castle realized he was gripping her too tightly; it took an effort to release his fingers. "He looks good," he murmured to her.

"He hasn't forgotten us," she whispered.

"Of course not-"

"Okay, sorry about that, guys. James has - he's been missing you. I might, uh, I might take him to your place. If this is... going on much longer."

Kate's face broke. "I'm sorry it's been so - messed up. Take him - yeah - anywhere you need to. He might be homesick for his bed and toys."

"And his parents," Jim said roughly. He shook his head then, gave them a firm smile. "You just work on getting better. How're you doing?"

"Better," she said, nodding. But Jim's eyes went to Castle.

"She is," Castle promised. "Did Logan say anything to you?"

"Just that they sent you guys some supplies - some medicine."

"Basically," Castle said. "They used cultures from - uh - from James. Helped them make something to help Kate."

"And the toxic part?"

"It's slowly getting stripped out," Kate said. "And the damage that was done - that's what James's help is all about."

"Because he's - augmented," Jim said.

Augmented. There was a word for it. "Yeah," Kate answered, before Castle could even step around the emotional bomb that was _augmented._

"You know he's hitting eighth-month milestones," Jim said softly. "In a few months - he'd be strong enough to walk."

Walk? James was six months old. He-

"Yeah, I thought so too," Kate sighed. Her fingers skimmed the phone again and it tilted precariously. Castle reached out and caught it before it could tip backwards. She pushed both her hands into her lap as Castle repositioned it.

"And his language is progressing. It's just sounds, but they seem to be attached to specific things."

"Naming things?" Kate murmured. It hit him too, that they were missing his first _words_, his life, out here on a balcony in Cologne as Kate struggled to sit up straight for an hour.

"I don't know if it's true words yet," Jim said, giving James a rueful look. "But he likes to say things. He holds whole conversations alone in his crib. He definitely can entertain himself."

Kate let out a long breath, and her head dropped against Castle's shoulder. "Thank you, Dad."

Jim glanced up at them again. "Hey, don't worry about us, Katie. We're doing just fine. He'll be happy to have you home, but you gotta make it home first. You hear me?"

"I hear you." She ran her fingers over the image of James still squirming in Jim's arms, and Castle just gave up and held the phone so she could.

"Rick. You do what you have to do so you both get back here."

"Yes, sir."

"Son," he warned, shaking a finger. "None of that _sir _business."

Castle nodded tightly, felt Kate's mouth pushed against his shoulder in a kiss. "Thanks, Jim."

"Now, let's see if we can't get James to give some more kisses. Without wrecking my computer. James, hey buddy, see Mommy and Daddy?"

James stopped wriggling so hard and turned to look where Jim was pointing. He clapped his hands together and leaned forward again, a nosedive towards them, and Kate laughed, drew the phone closer to her.

They went through a few rounds of kissing before James started yawning and rubbing his eyes. Jim patted his back and said something about bedtime, but then James twisted in his grandfather's arms and reached for Kate.

Hands out, pleading in his eyes, and Kate sucked in a pained breath beside him.

Jim's face shadowed as James began to whimper; her father leaned in to the laptop, cradling James like a baby against his chest. "Love you guys. I'm going to put him to bed. Bye."

And just as Jim shut the laptop, Castle could hear the sharp, pitiful cry of their son calling for her.

"Fuck," Kate moaned.

Just like that, everything felt a hundred times worse.


	10. Chapter 10

**Close Encounters 23**

* * *

><p>When Kate was certain that Castle was asleep beside her, she stopped trying to hold it in.<p>

The tears leaked out of her eyes and rolled back into her ears, her hair, on and on, and she cried. She just let it happen because she was so damn tired and her son _missed_ her, because she wanted to get the hell out of here but she couldn't even sit up on her own for a video call.

Because she couldn't be sure that the Collective wouldn't find them at the airport, because she was sure that the Collective was closer than Castle had told her, because tomorrow was another chelation day and she was already dreading it, because Black was on the other side of the wall _not_ in handcuffs any longer and she herself had sent Mitchell away.

Because she'd do it all over again for that healthy, kisses-giving boy. She'd do it again.

God, it hurt. It really hurt.

And she felt bad enough to let it swallow her up, let it drown her. And then maybe if it all just ran in rivers out of her eyes, maybe it would go away. Maybe she could fucking get it together and put on a brave face and do what needed to be done to get home again.

She pictured James again, let herself feel it, sucking in a shallow breath as tears clogged her lungs. James as a tiny little newborn, and his fingers that would curl around hers and that rose-pink mouth. James in the backyard with Sasha under his spell, the dog pressed against the baby's side on the blanket. James watching her from the crib when she went to pick him up, solemn and waiting. James sitting in her father's lap, chewing on his toy, completely delighted at seeing their faces on the laptop screen.

Worth it. Worth every bit of this hell.

Even if Castle didn't agree with her; even if he looked sick about it. Even if-

She was going to survive this. She was already surviving it. No question. A few tears, if that's how she had to make it through another night in a foreign city, then she'd cry a few fucking tears and be better tomorrow.

Kate scrubbed the backs of her hands against her eyes, swiped at the wetness slicking her cheeks, and then she rolled over into Castle.

He was warm, and large, and he was everything that was certain - and he should've gone home.

She should have sent him home. She should have kept Mitchell here in Cologne with her and Black until it was done so that Castle could escape home. He should be slipping out of Germany on a military flight right now, away from the Collective, away from this mess, safely to their son.

But she hadn't told him that. She hadn't even suggested it.

Because she couldn't survive this without him.

* * *

><p>Castle found his moment alone with her the day Black finally left the apartment on his own. They had been in Cologne for five days, walking this high wire of letting Black feel he'd won and doing the real work of healing Kate. It'd been the last step in their plan, but really, it wasn't at all hard to let his father go. Castle was eager for Black to get out from underfoot.<p>

Kate was sitting up in the red chair, but he was pretty sure she was feeling worse than she had in a while. It was at least an in-between day.

He sat down on the bed, patted the mattress next to him with an inviting look. She shook her head, and he wondered if it was because she didn't want to or if she just couldn't.

"Still haven't made contact with Hunt _or_ the courier," he said, jumping right into it. "Mitchell is looking into it for us."

Kate sighed and rested her cheek against the slope of the chair back. "It's my fault. I told you to trust Hunt."

"I don't know that he's run off," Castle said, though he thought maybe he had. "But it's not about Hunt."

"The extraction," she sighed, closing her eyes. "It was supposed to have already been here."

"Yeah," he agreed. They'd run out of infusion three days ago.

Watching her, she was a pale slash against the lurid red of the chair. The morning light made her luminous, and he couldn't imagine she would fade. A week ago and he hadn't been sure of anything. Felt like his whole life had been ending. Now she was sitting up in a chair.

"It will come," she murmured. "I had a dream last night that James was asleep on my chest." She opened her eyes now and smiled at him.

"You thinking it's a sign?" he said, not sure even of that.

"No," she murmured. "No. Just - it was nice."

Castle got up off the bed and came for her, scooped her up in his arms. She stiffened but he was only trying to get close; he shifted to sit in the red chair with Kate in his arms. She sighed a little, but she wriggled to get into the small space left next to his hip.

"It was nice, huh?" he said. He nudged his nose into her neck and kissed her skin. "You smell like spicy lemon soap. You take a shower?"

"Mm, not yet. Just leftover I guess." She leaned her head into him and he lifted a hand to stroke her hair. First time they'd been able to touch without worrying about Black looming over their shoulders.

"Hey, this scar is fading," he said, stroking the place at her neck from Tunisia. "Shit, more than just fading - it's _gone_."

"Started to fade when I was pregnant," she told him. But she lifted her chin and pressed her own fingers to that place where the knife had cut into her. "What about behind my ear?"

He scraped his fingers through her hair and pulled it back, rubbed his thumb. "Gone. Totally gone. And look, feel this?" He caught her hand and pulled it to the spot at her ear where one of Black's mercenaries had clubbed her so hard it'd left a mark.

"I feel.. what?"

"Hair growing in there too. The scar pushed in a little and now it's short, downy-"

"Recent," she murmured, lifting her head to look at him. "How recent?"

"Past few days."

"The extraction from James?" she said, lifting her eyebrows. "Do your scars fade like that?"

He rubbed the place behind her ear. "They... do."

"What about the one on your wrist-" She came to a dead stop, her fingers hooked around his wrist. "Holy shit, it's gone. When did that happen?"

"Year ago. After I got sick. They fade - but it takes time and multiple injections of the serum. When I met you, Kate, I'd been quitting the stuff - and this had just happened."

"No," she gasped, jerking back. "It had just happened? You acted like - when I _asked_ you, pointblank, when that was, you said years ago."

"Not that many years. A few. Within the last decade."

She laughed, shaking her head a little at him. "Okay, Rick. Fine. A few years. So it takes a few years, but your scars fade. And now mine are too."

"The shallow ones," he said, stroking at her neck again. "I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"Sorry?" she said. "Why are you sorry?"

"Just - losing so much here. Losing memories, badge of honor. I mean you survived some pretty intense stuff, and it's just gone. I know the feeling. Like nothing can touch you. It's cool at first, but it's not later. When you realized nothing is allowed to touch you."

"Yeah, but the damn stretch marks are probably gone."

Castle laughed, stroked his hand down her side to skim up her shirt. "Oh yeah? Should I check for you?"

"Do that," she whispered, her smile flickering to life.

He canted in over her, pressed his mouth to her abdomen. She laughed, clutching his head, and he tickled his beard across her belly until she was gasping.

"Castle, Castle-!"

He kissed her, licked the skin where, yes, the stretch marks were absolutely gone. It was sad to him, all that work gone, like their life had never happened.

"Castle?"

"Stretch marks are gone," he said and lifted his head again. She cupped his neck in her hand and her eyes were soft.

"It's okay, Rick. I don't mind losing a few scars. That doesn't bother me. Especially when it's saving my life."

Castle flinched. "You're right. You're exactly right." He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her against him. "Lose the scars, Beckett. Smoother skin the better. How do you feel?"

"Grateful the chelation is over," she sighed. "So grateful."

"Threkeld wants you to stay on the extraction though. For a while. We - we really need to find that courier."

She nodded against him, but he could already feel how her fingers were loosening at his hip, her body leaning heavier into him. She fell asleep like this all the time now, like his warmth and safety were drugging.

He didn't mind. She could fall asleep on him any time.

They really needed that next round of extraction. Where the _hell_ was Hunt?

* * *

><p>No more chelation. Black had reluctantly agreed that she was on the mend, had even said that her body seemed able to take over the process of balance on its own.<p>

No more chelation, thank God. She wanted to celebrate and Castle had gone out lurking through the city to try another rendezvous with Hunt - the sly bastard had better show up.

She wanted chocolate.

She settled for standing up from the red chair and walking on her own to the balcony windows, her hand on the latch. The sky beyond was sparkling with stars so bright she could almost taste them behind the glass.

Kate pushed her thumb to the latch and the doors rattled as she struggled to open them. She found herself breaking out into a sweat, worried that Black would hear from the bedroom and come out to stop her, but the fight went on.

And then the lock popped free and she let out a little hysterical laugh, put her shoulder to the door. Freedom.

Of a sort.

The doors opened outward onto the balcony, and the night came pouring in against her, swamping her senses with diamond-cut darkness. She swayed on the concrete floor, her hands caught on the knobs of the doors, and then she took a slow step out.

Kate released the doors, let herself be buffeted by the night air and the stars.

She stood up, alone under all of it, and she felt good.

A little weak. But good. The darkness of the night was astounding, and the stars were so bright overhead, despite being inside the city limits. Cologne was alive at this hour, but not here, not in this alley in the Old Town, where the homes here were close together and family-oriented. She saw a few lights on across the street, almost close enough to touch, but it was the starry sky that had her enthralled.

She sank to a wrought-iron chair and settled in, her elbows on the little cafe table. The iron rubbed hard against her bones, but she wouldn't move for the world.

She breathed freedom, and yes, she knew it had been her own idea to let Black out of his chains, make him think they were reluctantly trusting him. But the night was so alluring and she'd been sick so long.

"Beckett!"

She startled, realizing she had practically nodded off sitting at the table out here, and she stood slowly to go back inside, confront Castle. But when she stepped to the doors to through, she could see clearly that Castle hadn't yet returned.

"Beckett. Psst. Beckett."

It wasn't Castle; that was _Hunt_.

She stumbled back to the wrought-iron railing, gripped the bars as she leaned over. Down in the street, she could see only a shadow against the cobblestones and brick. "Hunt?"

"Shhh," the form hissed. The shadow separated from the darker depths and moved into the faint light coming in behind her from the living room. "You need to come down."

"What?" she growled.

"I've got - what you need," he started. And then a clatter down the street had him darting back into the shadows and out of view. On instinct, Kate shrank back as well, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be there.

Or maybe she wasn't.

Kate snaked back into the living room and fell against the red chair on her way to her phone, captured it in her hand and pressed her thumb to the menu button. It recognized her print and opened - bypassing the lock screen entirely - and she checked her messages.

Nothing from Castle. She shot him a quick text, _Hunt is here. Downstairs. Where are you?_

And then she doused the lights and headed back out to the balcony. Hopefully Black would think she was going to sleep and not come searching.

Hunt had the extraction.

She might have to go down there.

But where was Castle?

* * *

><p>No text, nothing from Castle, and the rain had started again, forcing her to a decision.<p>

"I'm coming down," she told him. Hunt made a sign and slinked back into the darkness, and hopefully some shelter from the rain.

Fuck, Castle was going to murder someone when he found out she was doing this.

Kate took a steadying breath and reached a hand out to keep herself upright. She found a pair of jeans - she was fucking tired of sweatpants - and sank down onto the edge of the bed to put them on quietly. It was a struggle, it made her break out in a sweat, and it was forcing her to confront just how weak she was.

But that she could do it at all - that was heartening.

Kate tugged the hooded sweatshirt on over her arms, trying to be careful of the place where the port had been. It still ached, bruised in her joints, and she held her elbow carefully against her side.

Shoes.

She found a pair of ballet flats that would be ruined by the rain, but it was the best she could do in the dark without waking Black. She put the .38 in one pocket of the sweatshirt, the phone in the other, and then she headed for the door.

She didn't have keys. Shit. Black could lock her out if she-

Fine. Lock her out. Who the fuck cared? When Castle got back, he had keys, and it wasn't like she enjoyed sitting up in that room waiting for Black to renege on his deal.

Kate left the door propped open, pushing it to the frame but not letting it close, and then she took tentative steps down the hallway. Her heart was pounding - both exhilaration and strain - and she slid her hand along the wall to help guide her, keep her steady. The hallway was in complete darkness - Castle and Mitch had half-unscrewed the light bulbs and no one had gotten in touch with the landlord so they could be fixed.

To their benefit - to Castle's anyway - but not to hers. She was having to count her steps as she went, blind in the dark interior hall.

She hit the stairs before she thought they should be there, and she had to clutch wildly at the banister to keep from falling. Her pulse was jackrabbiting in her skull and she sank down to her ass on the second step, hanging from the railing.

Okay, breathe. Deep breaths. They needed those extractions from home; she needed them.

Kate swallowed down the moment of panic and stood again, felt with her feet for the next step. Her muscles were jittery with adrenaline, like when she'd woken up in the back of an ambulance to see Hunt's face staring down at her. That was emblazoned on her memory, and would be for the rest of her life, she had no doubt.

She tripped on a few steps, but she felt _less_ panicky the further she got from the apartment. Which spoke volumes about where her head was at, but she didn't have time for a therapy session right now.

If she wanted to go home, she had to have those vials. Chelation, even though it was over, could be started at a whim if Black felt she hadn't progressed. And Castle, even though he was so sweet and _trying_, Castle kept listening to Black and Logan and giving in to the treatment.

No more chelation. She was done; it was over. Chelation therapy was supposed to be a six-week ordeal, off and on again, just like the time she'd gotten iron infusions after Castle had nearly died. But this chelation was killing her slowly - at least that was how it felt.

Kate was determined not to be on chelation a day longer. She needed those vials Hunt had brought.

She was just down to the final step when the phone vibrated angrily in her pocket, startling her so badly she fell against the wall and smashed her still-tender elbow.

Fuck.

Kate groaned and sat down on the bottom step, forehead to her knees, gulping down pain, and she fished the phone out of her pocket.

A message from Castle. _I'm where he was supposed to be meeting me. Fucking asshole. I'm on my way._

Well, if she were Hunt, she wouldn't be meeting Castle alone in the dark either. Castle with Mitch as back-up.

No wonder Hunt had come to her instead.

Kate struggled to stand with the help of the railing, and then she took a slow step across the cool marble floor of the lobby, heading for the garden doors. The air was warmer, though the bulbs were out here too. She could see well enough from the garden lampposts and lantern lights that shimmered in the rain; they cast a moon-like path towards the door.

She opened it quietly, but it wasn't covert enough.

A hand wrapped around her mouth, an arm around her waist, and she was jerked out into the night.

* * *

><p>The End of <strong>Close Encounters 23: Nobody Lives For Ever<strong>

Stay Tuned for **Close Encounters 24: Moonraker**


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